


On The Hunt

by Chrysize



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Depression, F/M, Minor Injuries, Multi, Slow Burn, Suicidal actions, Violence, the author's self-indulgent overwatch fic that no one ever asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 54,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysize/pseuds/Chrysize
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Huntress knows she’s a mystery to most of her companions in the fight. Hell, she’s a mystery to herself half the time. More than a few of her opponents have been mysteries as well, and humans are curious by default–it was only a matter of time before someone started nosing around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the hunt begins

**Author's Note:**

> Not all warnings are applicable just yet, but I'll make a note when they are. For this chapter: violence, suicidal actions, and minor injuries.

She keeps her hood pulled forward to hide her gaze from her teammates and her rifle jumping with shots to keep the opposition at bay. A similarly hooded figure here, a tall and twitchy junker there; nothing less than a headshot will satisfy her, but when someone gets too close her hunting knife will do the job just as well. The doctor’s aid keeps her moving, and she keeps Mercy out of harm’s way in return. Of course, it helps that they’re also covering the point with Bastion’s powerful turret. Occasionally Huntress pauses between bouts to give the robot an encouraging pat, receiving a cheerful beeping in response.

An enemy draws close though, and a fear wells up in her despite herself– _Reaper_. His shotguns are blasting away recklessly and ruthlessly. Huntress snaps off a shot and misses, making to shoot again until a blast knocks her weapon aside and sets her down on the ground. She can hear a low, grating laugh accompanying the words, “Child’s play.”

“Tactical visor activated.”

A flurry of shots ring out, changing Reaper’s laughter to aggravated grunts before he evaporates into a dark smoke that swirls away to escape the hail of bullets. Soldier:76 hooks a hand under her arm and hauls her to her feet, already pushing her rifle back into her hands and moving off before she can give a nod of thanks; he’s probably looking to finish off Reaper, but she isn’t stopping to think on it when the opposition is still trying to break through to the objective. With Reaper pushed away the area is clear for the moment, but Huntress still looks around through her scope. Caution pays out, and she catches a glimpse of a man up in the window of a building across the street – there’s no gun in his hands, but… a bow? She lifts her head to get a normal view, and it feels for an instant their gazes have locked. Then a muted thump, and she staggers back, a hand reflexively reaching up to touch the arrow buried in her shoulder. _Ow_.

“I’ve got you!” This time Mercy is the one speaking up, the doctor hastening to her with mechanical wings outspread. Genji darts past, and as Huntress watches he throws a trio of shuriken at the open window, now empty.

“Who was th-agh!”

Mercy uses the moment of distraction to yank the arrow out, and Genji pads over to take it. He only looks over it for an instant before nodding, his gaze drawn to the windowsill where his shuriken are now embedded. The arrow breaks in half within his grasp. “My brother, Hanzo. He is still seeking his place in this fight, and I do not know where he will find himself in the end. Be careful if you see him again, Huntress.”

“Cryptic,” she mutters into her half mask, still breathing hard while Mercy’s healing tech does its work to patch up her wound. It’s a quick fix, thankfully – she doesn’t have to listen to Mercy chiding her to be more careful for very long. Bastion has switched out of turret mode and stomps over with a concerned whirring and kazoo hum, and she gives another encouraging pat. “Keep the point covered, the doctor’s got your back. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Don’t get yourself killed in enemy territory!” Mercy admonishes, but all Huntress can do is shrug as she darts away, activating her stealth cloak in the process. The technology has a time limit, and it turns her vision to shades of black and white, but she’s used to it by now. She takes potshots at opponents as she passes them, however none of them are who she’s looking for. Just before her cloak deactivates she ducks into an alley behind a dumpster, holding her breath as heavy footsteps pass by on the street, no doubt looking for the invisible shooter. A glance off to her right shows a door ajar – hm. Not the same building he was firing from before, but considering the circumstances she would expect a sniper to find a different nest to shoot from after being spotted anyway.

A few more seconds of cooldown before she can reactivate her cloak, and she hurries inside, following the metal staircase upwards to second floor. Huntress is rewarded with her target’s back facing her, his bow humming with each shot he takes. He seems oblivious, but she’s only just pulled her knife out when he says, “I can hear your footsteps.”

The room is unlit and her cloak is still active, but as he turns around to look his serious gaze seems to assess her anyway. There’s no arrow readied for a shot - she can guess that the heavily built bow doubles as a melee weapon in a pinch. She drops her cloak and eyes him in return.

“You could’ve taken me down with that shot. You should’ve.”

Huntress doesn’t waste time waiting for a response and closes in; taking out a sniper makes the job easier for the team, and Genji’s cautionary words whisper in the back of her head. A well-aimed slash for his midsection is blocked by the upper length of the bow. They trade several more blows, circling each other in a wary stalemate. This isn’t going to get her anywhere – but a cheap trick will. She reactivates her cloak, using his instant of confusion to tackle him. Hanzo goes down with a grunt, his bow falling to the side as he’s forced to grapple with an invisible enemy whose knife slashes alarmingly close to skin more than a few times. The archer finally manages to kick her off though, and Huntress loses her grip on her blade in the process; they both scramble for their respective weapons as her cloak hits the time limit and deactivates again, leaving them standing across from each other once again, breathing hard but so far uninjured. Huntress is standing next to her scout rifle, dropped when she chose to leap at him. She wonders if she could grab it and fire off a shot before he could draw and fire an arrow. Probably not.

“Genji told you about me, I presume?”

Huntress shrugs. “Only to be careful if I saw you.”

A flicker of emotion crosses his face, but vanishes back under a neutral facade before she can decipher it. He covers it further with a brief chuff of amusement. “You do not heed warnings very well then.”

“I never have.”

She closes in again, another set of blows exchanged in a perfunctory sort of way just to gauge each other’s strength. He’s certainly the stronger one; Huntress has always been the lean sort, and he’s rather well-built. If she can feint at the right moment though, come in from the right instead of the left…

Hanzo catches on in time, and the game of block and parry continues. He isn’t just sticking to the defensive stance, either. More than a few times she has to dodge or parry blows from his bow, used more like a polearm than anything else. This fight’s taking too long for her endurance to last, though; she’ll either need another underhanded move, or else take the risk to scoop up her rifle. Either way, she doubts she’s going to come out of this unscathed. Mercy is going to kick her ass later, isn’t she... unless Soldier:76 picks her up out of the impending wreckage first, anyway.

Cloaking again, she hurries to her rifle and picks it up – dodge rolling away from a well-aimed arrow. Thankfully the cloaking extends to her gun once it’s in her grasp, and Hanzo is left waiting for her next attack. It doesn’t take long: she charges him with as much momentum as possible, not just meant to knock him down, but to carry both of them out the window he’d opened for his sniping vantage. There’s a long moment of weightlessness until they hit the ground, and even though it’s only a second story fall, she’s still glad to have Hanzo as a cushion. But she quickly realizes they aren’t alone; they’ve landed right in the firefight, actually, and on the wrong side for her to escape safely. Right on cue her cloak deactivates, and she’s the center of attention right along with Hanzo. _Shit_.

Huntress disengages from the archer and readies her ultimate. “Electro-Frag detonating! _Bite me_.”

If she doesn’t throw the grenade, it’ll wipe her out too; she glances to Hanzo, who’s struggling to his feet after being winded by the landing – or maybe he’s got a broken rib or two. Too bad. She drops the grenade and waits for detonation.

It happens with an initial roar followed by the blinding, numbing blast of electricity; she might’ve opened her mouth to scream, but it’s over in a flash. She crumples into a pair of gauntleted hands, a large hammer shuffled aside to accommodate her. Her vision is jittery and swimming, but she recognizes Reinhardt when she hears him.

“That was magnificent, my friend! But dangerous, you should have waited for my shield to protect you from it!”

“The enemy wouldn’t have waited,” she mumbles, trying to raise her head to look for Hanzo. But no one’s left around the smoking crater left by her grenade, and she’s barely clinging to consciousness anyway. Huntress sags in Reinhardt’s hold as Mercy’s voice comes into range, heaving a sigh at the healing stream that starts chasing away internal injuries. That staff really is a miracle, but instead her thoughts keep going back to her scuffle, to the archer with the warm, serious eyes. She wants to get his attention again.

She wants to know why he didn’t kill her from the start.

“The enemy’s retreated for now, we’ll be confiscating the payload they were trying to deliver. Let’s get back to base.”

Soldier:76 is appraising the team where they’ve gathered by Huntress while casting an especially harsh gaze her way, shaking his head after a moment; Mercy’s been quick with her staff today, with everyone more or less in one piece. When the healing stream is disengaged Huntress staggers to her feet, weary but healthy again as she murmurs a quiet thanks to both the doctor and Reinhardt. She glances over her teammates as well. Genji looks sparkling and untouched as usual, Bastion has a new scorch mark she’ll have to buff off, Mercy seems tired but pleased at everyone’s conditions, Soldier: 76 has a few new tears in his jacket, Reinhardt’s armor is a mess of gunpowder and scorch marks, and she’s… well. She’s been better, but was a hell of a lot worse just a minute ago, so she’ll call it good.

They start moving out while the old soldier calls in for transportation, and Huntress glances back one last time just in case. There’s an arrow planted in the ground just a few feet away.

That wasn’t there before, was it? She’s not sure.


	2. downtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this time, unless you count Genji giving warnings. Small reference to a favorite sci-fi novel in this one, it'll make my week if anyone recognizes it. El Gatita belongs to my friend Senka, a very cool cat.

Winston is always in a huff about the state of the less than habitable base at Watchpoint Gibraltar, not that Huntress cares too much. All things considered there’s room for everyone, a helpful AI, and a table on which she can rest her aching head with an arm for a pillow. Her other is loosely curled around an arrow – maybe not the one left at the end of the bout, but it’s his nonetheless, and thus an item of intrigue to her.

“Well now, don’t you look like you got yourself beat up. The old man goin’ too hard on you?”

McCree’s drawl is recognizable and inspires a twinge of nostalgia that she ignores in favor of casting an eye in his direction with a tiny snort. The cowboy offers a grin–thankfully missing his trademark cigar, or else Winston would soon be in the room to complain about smoke damage to Athena’s hardware. Huntress musters up a grumbling, “I stood on my grenade.”

“Hah! Mighty reckless there, ain’tcha?” McCree laughs and shakes his head, leaning back in the seat he’s taking while raising his voice to call out, “You comin’, Gatita? Huntress don’t bite, least I don’t think she does, anyway. Huntress, this’s my buddy, El Gatita.”

Huntress would consider snapping her teeth at McCree but for the half mask that would hide such a gesture, so she turns her attention to the new person approaching – and boy, is that outfit… interesting. An omnic styled helmet and a chic cowgirl ensemble? Well, it’s nostalgic in its own way, not that Huntress would’ve ever been caught dead in something like that. But it still brings back some memories. They flash a few quick hand signs at McCree, who shrugs in response and leans back just a little further in his chair so he can put his boots up on the table. “Why don’t you sit down and find out?”

They do so, while Huntress goes back to toying with Hanzo’s arrow. She doesn’t know any sign language, so if the other is mute it’s going to be a little difficult to carry any kind of conversation (though really, she’s not much for conversation in the first place). Silence lingers for a while.

“Where are you from?”

She glances up, blinking a few times as if to confirm the question came from Gatita, whose helmet has lit up with a simplified cat emoji.

“… Texas. I haven’t been back in years though.”

At this McCree drops his boots off the table and leans forward with an interested glimmer in his eyes, lips drawn in a smile. “Well now, I thought me and Gatita were the only honest country folk around, but here we had another hidin’ under our noses with that fancy cloak! Welcome to the party, darlin’.”

Huntress rolls her eyes a little, less enamored with the cowboy’s welcome than with the ‘fireworks’ going off on Gatita’s helmet, a scrolling ‘Yay!’ causing her lips to twitch. That’s cute.

The conversation doesn’t pick up too much, but neither does it drop off again, and Huntress finds her attention is less on Hanzo’s arrow than it is on this new “companion”, trading queries and answers that somehow manage to avoid being too personal. McCree pipes up every now and then, but she can tell he’s starting to miss his cigar in the way his jaw shifts and fingers fidget, metal ones ringing slightly in rubbing past one another. In a moment though, the atmosphere of the little group changes; the display on Gatita’s helmet sparkles and shudders as they pop up out of their seat and circle around the table to take the seat next to Huntress, scooting in close to rest their head on her shoulder while a line of z’s scroll across the helmet.

Cat nap? Huntress is bemused, but her attention is drawn away by a new entry to the room: Genji seems at ease in the doorway, but she can tell his focus has already landed on her. The reason is clear enough to her, though she just gives him a lopsided shrug. Her fingers tighten their grasp on the arrow when the cyborg makes his way over and settles into the seat Gatita had just vacated.

“You seem to be feeling better now, Huntress. I’m glad you are uninjured,” he says. She wants to roll her eyes again – he’s beating around the bush.

“He wasn’t trying very hard to kill me. I told him he wasn’t doing a very good job at taking anyone down.” McCree guffaws at that, but Genji doesn’t even shift. Neither does Huntress – but she’s not in the mood for mincing around right now either. He’ll have to live with a little bluntness. “If I see him again I won’t get shot this time. I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

Usually.

Genji sighs, but before he can speak up there’s yet another person entering the room – well, two. Soldier: 76 leads the way, and Winston is just behind him, ducking his head to avoid the door frame. Huntress still can’t get over it sometimes; cyborgs and omnics are one thing, but genetically modified gorillas from the Moon? It feels like one of her old story favorites (though there don’t seem to be any talking _dolphins_ attached to the old Overwatch program, unfortunately). But Winston’s nice, an earnest sort of person. His size is comforting, rather than intimidating.

“Genji, stay here. Everyone else, we’re moving out. Talon’s got operatives in Egypt and we need to break their defenses.”

Gatita raises their head finally (she’s not sure they were ever napping in the first place), hopping out of their seat again with surprising energy. They must be ready to go, huh. Huntress is a little slower to rise, as is McCree, but her brow furrows slightly as she mentally counts out, up to five. Isn’t the usual team six? She says as much, and the visored man grunts, “We’ll have company when we get there.”

A few looks pass between the rest of the group, but in the end Huntress shrugs; she’ll roll with it. Now the team starts filing out the door toward the transport bay, but she’s halted when Genji calls out. “Huntress, wait a moment, please.”

She doesn’t really want to, but she does anyway. He’s risen from his seat and moved in closer so he can keep his voice quiet, though still minding personal space.

“My brother is not someone you should regard so lightly. Even if he has not decided where he belongs, he is still dangerous as long as he believes he has reason to be. I do not wish for you to learn this the hard way. It could be the last mistake you choose to make.” Genji’s voice is so honest right now that almost perversely, Huntress wants to start laughing. Oh yeah, she figured as much when she picked a fight with the man and threw the both of them out a window, but she knows Genji can’t read her mind. She’s glad for that, really. Makes it easier to keep her mask in place. “I know what I’m doing, Genji. It’ll be fine.”

“Huntress–”

She turns away, but he catches her wrist. When she glances down, she realizes she’s still holding the arrow, and as if it were suddenly red hot she drops it. The clatter of it on the floor seems deafening in the relative silence; Genji’s green visor is unreadable. But he releases his grasp without prompting, and she doesn’t need prompting to turn and hasten away towards the transport bay, feeling more shaken than she ought to be. It doesn’t mean anything, really. He’s just an interesting new opponent.

McCree is calling for her this time, but she’s distracted and pulling up her hood to hide in the shadow it casts, only realizing her attention is being sought when Gatita falls into step beside her and pats her shoulder, words scrolling across their helmet.

“Everything okay?”

A question she’s not inclined to properly answer right now, picking up a brisker pace. Scout rifle’s in the transport, as is the rest of her gear. Huntress just wants to get moving now.

“Everything’s fine. Don’t sweat it.”


	3. snipers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for graphic violence, eye trauma - basically Huntress killing people ay. this chapter got out of my control which is why it's almost double the size of the other chapters.

She’s never been to Egypt, and the view of it out the darkened transport window is exciting: the commotion of the streets down below, the architecture, the implied bustle that couldn’t be heard from inside their transport. It’s hard not to betray her curiosity, but she forces her glances to remain at a minimum, only drawing Winston’s equally curious gaze once or twice. Gatita and McCree are wrapped up in a silent and languid signing conversation, though the dexterity with which they sign is still rather agile. There’s just as much an air of mystery around Gatita as there is around herself - though it seems less cultivated like her own and more of a natural thing. Maybe it’s the cat theme.

Their transport moves away from the bustle of the city center, and before long the streets are much more threatening in nature - dark alleys for enemies to hide, emptied of civilians and in a state of disrepair. They come to a gentle landing that kicks up a small dust cloud, the engines dying away, and the soldier’s gruff voice speaks up. “Enemy line not far ahead. We’ll go on foot from here.”

The doors open with a hiss of compressed air, and even with the mask on Huntress can smell the dust of Egypt; she lets McCree and Gatita go ahead of her, checking her rifle for a moment before hopping out next. Winston is behind her, while Soldier:76 is last out of the transport, auto rifle sliding off its shoulder sling to rest securely in his grasp. Without any words he takes the lead and the rest of them fall in behind. Winston doesn’t seem to mind bringing up the rear, but Huntress feels somewhat stifled in the middle, even with Gatita scrolling cute little emojis at her from the side. She wants to activate her cloaking, but resists the impulse - wouldn’t want it on cooldown when she might _really_ need it.

“Talon guards ahead, weapons at the ready. Winston, shield up when I open fire.”

A few more paces, the silence even more stifling, and then just like that the familiar thrum of the soldier’s rifle cracks the silence open wide, followed by the hum and encapsulating dome of Winston’s shield activating right before the loud rattle of return fire. Huntress takes up a position near the edge, takes aim, and fires off a clean headshot, dropping a Talon guard up on the gate a hundred yards off. It’s a fast-paced rhythm, Soldier:76 spraying suppressive fire while she and McCree take turns picking off the guards that peek out to retaliate. Winston’s shield drops, and they charge forward amidst a flurry of submachine gunfire that rattles her teeth even from this distance. With a nod from the older man Huntress breaks off from the group and cloaks, dodging through alleyways to find a good flanking position. There’s a low rooftop that overlooks the gate, accessed with a ladder that she shimmies up with haste, and after dropping to a knee she takes out another guard, ignoring the klaxon alarm beginning to blare. It’ll be a nasty little fight now, and she wonders if they’ll bring out their skull-masked attack dog soon. The man seems immortal, really… or maybe he isn’t a man at all. She doesn’t know.

The answer turns out to be quite different, and comes in the form of a slamming sensation that knocks her on her back. God, that’s _numb_ ; her fingers go feeling along her shoulder and come up with blood, the instant conclusion having her crawl over to the building edge to shout, “Sniper, watch yourselves!”

She’s not out yet, but as she rises to her knees another shot slams into her, leaving her gasping breathlessly as she falls forward on her face. The feeling’s different this time, though… she blinks a few times, checking herself for injuries but finding only a sore spot where the first bullet hit. _Two_ snipers? Her thoughts are whirling in confusion, but her first instinct is to cloak the instant it becomes possible again, standing and turning to scope the buildings behind her. Open windows, shuttered windows… there, the glint of a scope, and Huntress takes off at a dead sprint, spurning the ladder for a much faster jump that she lands with a roll before charging onward, past her teammates and forward into the building several yards back, the tallest on the block naturally.

Her cloak fizzles as she reaches the doorway, so she brings her rifle up at the ready as she hurries upwards - four flights of stairs are truly a pain in the ass, and she has to pause for breath and to let her cloak finish cooldown so she can activate it again, pacing down the hallway in near silence to find the right room, door cracked open just a hair. Rifle barrel nudging it open slowly, she gets her first proper peek at the sniper in dust gray, unmoved from their position. Hard to tell anything about them like that.

“So, did you fire the first shot, or the second one?”

Huntress has her rifle trained on the sniper, who remains unmoved for a moment before lifting their head. “The second one, dear. If you know her, that’s Doctor Zeigler’s technology at work.”

Another moment passes until Huntress lowers her rifle, deactivating her cloak and giving a curt nod. Now she can see in color again as the other stands and turns to smile, age leaving crow’s feet at the corner of her one eye and generous smile lines wrinkled across darkly tan cheeks. For Huntress the woman is just as much a stranger as the rest of her team mates had first been, and though her gaze strays to the eyepatch, and then the tattoo, she nods her head again, introducing herself with a succinct, “Huntress. I’m guessing you’re the company Soldier:76 mentioned would meet us here.”

“Indeed. I’m afraid we don’t have time for proper introductions, though. If you would, since you found me so easily, the rest of the team could use your help getting rid of the enemy sniper.” The woman’s expression, formerly rather warm, seems icy now. Huntress wonders if it’s an old rival.

“Got it. Keep an eye on me then.”

The other chuckles, “I’ll do that. Now hurry, or else sh- they will have changed positions.”

Huntress is back to wondering, but the older woman is right; the chatter of gunfire outside indicates the fight is nowhere near over, and the sooner she takes out that sniper, the better. With a final nod, she whirls away and dashes back down the hallway, four flights of stairs with steps taken four at a time. She activates her cloak an instant before bursting out onto the street, once again at a sprint, but before taking a look around for the other sniper she races for the heat of the firefight, breezing past Winston’s shield right towards a Talon gunman. The man never gets a chance to know what hit him: her knife slams into an eye socket and her momentum drops him backwards, blade sinking deep enough that she can feel the tip of the knife grinding to a halt against the back of his skull. She wrenches her knife free without thought for the vitreous fluids and brain matter that spatter away from her in an arc, taking advantage of her last few seconds of invisibility to lunge at the next closest gunman, still frozen in shock and unable to fight the blade that slashes deep and vicious at their throat.

Her cloak drops, and there’s fresh blood everywhere. No time for thinking here though, no time to wonder at any of it while there’s bullets whizzing past, both front and back. Huntress exchanges hunting knife for grenade, pressing the button and giving it a solid toss into the midst of the enemy’s ranks.

“Electro-Frag detonating, take cover!”

No self-destructive dawdling this time; she finds a wall to leap behind, and covers her ears under her hood to muffle the crackling explosion that shortly ensues. After a moment to ensure the electricity has dissipated she steps back out, glancing over the bodies covered in shrapnel, smoking burn marks visible wherever there’s bare skin. For a moment she feels a nauseous heaving of her stomach, and she looks away. There’s no gunfire for the moment, but Soldier:76 is approaching cautiously, using cover to keep out of any possible line of fire. There’s still a sniper afoot, after all.

“Huntress, what’s your status?”

She’s still fighting her nausea, grimacing under her mask before she can come up with a response. “I’m fine. I met our support sniper. She wants me to take out the enemy sniper.”

The soldier grunts in response, as always unreadable with that red visor. “We’ll press our advantage then, but if you don’t find that sniper, we’re fortifying our current line and calling it a day. Talon won’t give up their territory so easily. Now get moving.”

She’s gotten used to his brusque demeanor by now, nodding as she turns away. One more instant to breathe deeply (the air smells of scorched flesh and blood) - she activates her cloak and dashes off to find a new high point, another rooftop where she lifts her rifle to scope out the enemy territory. There’s too many buildings it could’ve come from… Huntress grits her teeth, dropping the cloaking.

“Shoot me again, you bastard,” she growls under her breath.

The feeling is that of playing chicken with an invisible train, one that could move over nine hundred meters a second. But she holds her ground as long as possible, until instinct screams to move - as she does, a shot whines past her ear, close enough for her to feel the wind. She brings up her scope again, looks for the glimmer, finds it in a distant building, and then drops. There’s no time to waste now, and she rolls herself towards the edge of her view point until she can drop off it to the ground not far below, taking off at a flat-out run yet again. Fuck it, her calves are burning from all this, but there’s nothing else but to push herself hard and heavy, cloaking as soon as she spots more Talon infantry incoming. They’re not her issue right now; the renewed gunfire behind her tells her that the rest of the team is on the job. She’s almost at that target building now, counting the seconds until her cloak has to deactivate.

A weight blindsides her. The scout rifle flies from her grasp as she tumbles, rolling to a halt in a cloud of dust that slips through her mask and sends her into a coughing fit. Before she can even think of rising there’s a foot on her throat, sharp spikes on the side threatening the soft underside of her jaw even through her protective cowl. For a moment there’s enough pressure to begin choking her, but it lightens up when the dust has cleared enough to let her see the gun aimed at her face, the cold blue skin of the sharp, gold-eyed woman holding her down.

“So _this_ is the latest ghost we’ve been hearing about.”

The words are purred with a French accent as Huntress struggles to take a deeper breath, the woman seeming immune to the beginnings of panic under her foot as she contemplates the nails on her free hand. “I was informed that someone had stolen new technology from one of Talon’s benefactors. You’ve done well bringing it this far, back to whom it _belongs_. I’ll be retrieving it now.”

In the moment that Huntress closes her eyes and waits for the lethal shot, the whine of an incoming bullet ends with a gasp of pain not from her, but her opponent, and her eyes fly back open. There’s a clean wound through the woman’s shoulder, already bleeding - Huntress can guess who she has to thank for that and grabs for her knife, slashing at the leg holding her down. It only scratches against a metal shin guard, but the force is just enough to throw the other off balance. She takes the opportunity to squirm away, scrambling for her rifle with all due desperation as shots ricochet past her with the classic rattle of a submachine gun. The other is only able to shoot with one arm though, and the disadvantage thankfully keeps Huntress from being filled with holes; she scoops up her gun and swivels around to return fire, quick sloppy shots that are mostly meant as suppressive fire, though a lucky shot grazes the woman’s already injured shoulder, inciting a furious, snarling expression.

Man, if looks could kill, Talon would be getting their cloaking tech back right now.

As it stands, Huntress isn’t about to give it up so easily, and takes the last few shots in her magazine before cloaking and making a run back towards the rest of her team. The sniper is disabled enough for now and she isn’t looking for a prolonged firefight-

“You cannot hide from me, _petit fantôme_.”

A jarring pain spears through her calf and Huntress finds herself collapsing forward, suddenly unable to bear her own weight. Shit, shit - but there’s just as suddenly a blue dome arching overhead, and El Gatita is carefully hauling her to her feet, giving Huntress a quick shot that feels much like their support sniper’s did. “Are you okay?”

The voice is a little tinny, more like a recording than naturally spoken. Huntress takes a moment to gingerly test her leg, where the bullet wound is already mostly vanished. Tender, but she’ll be able to limp on it at least. When she looks around for the enemy, they’ve disappeared.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

Gatita’s dusting her off now, helmet displaying a happy cat emoji, and in a moment it seems everyone’s gathered close; Winston’s stowing away his shield generator, while McCree and Soldier:76 are speaking in quiet tones. The support sniper is the only one who hasn’t grouped up with them. She wonders about the eyepatch and the dozens of notches she’d espied on the older woman’s rifle. Huntress hadn’t considered the thought of notches, didn’t consider herself a sniper at all. Probably for the best. No sniper worth anything would be so reckless, anyway.

When Soldier:76 finally says they’re heading back, Huntress is more than ready to limp back to the transport, first in and first to collapse in one of the seats.

It’s been a rough day.


	4. off roster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for alcohol at the end of the chapter. I gave in and decided i might as well do a double whammy of both shimadas because why the hell not. thanks so far for the kudos, i had no idea anyone would like this absolute clusterfuck of a fic but it warms my heart to know people are liking it so far.

Mercy is waiting there at the transport bay when they return, and Huntress has a nagging feeling that someone tattled on the way back. Probably Soldier:76. Still, the tutting of the doctor isn’t that hard to live with, and she allows herself to be dragged to the medbay with nothing but a tiny grumble, wincing when every little sore spot is prodded and checked over. But other than a few disapproving looks, the doctor pronounces a clean bill of health aside from exhaustion.

“You push yourself too hard, Huntress, I don’t want you getting hurt worse than you already have! Please, tell me you’ll be more careful on the next mission.”

“I am being careful, I swear,” she lies through her teeth, of course.

Mercy sighs, a hand brushing aside blonde bangs as she shakes her head. “Don’t just say that to appease me, please? For the time being I’m going to ask our leader to leave you off the roster, so you can rest a while. And no-” she lifts a hand before Huntress can respond, “I will not take it back. Doctor’s orders.”

Well that’s just great. Logically, she knows Dr. Zeigler is right - she’s been throwing herself into every operation with an almost lethal recklessness. Had the sniper not been more keen on retrieving the cloak, she probably would’ve been killed instead, with none of Zeigler’s miraculous technology present to sweep her off Death’s doorstep. Her heart had clenched and then dropped with dismay at the shot that had dropped her, unable to comprehend how the woman had made such a clean shot while wounded, not to mention with the cloaking active. Maybe it had something to do with the headgear she’d been wearing? The weaknesses of her stolen cloak had become more and more obvious over time, and if she’s still trackable via something like infrared… her heart only sinks further in uncertain misery.

Bidding the doctor a subdued farewell, she’s finally allowed to slink away, metaphorical tail tucked between her legs. The Gibraltar Watchpoint’s population is always in flux, and at this point most everyone is probably headed to their quarters or else to get some food if they intend to stay here for the time being; she plans her route accordingly, wanting to avoid the others on her way to the mostly abandoned wing she’d initially staked out as her temporary quarters here. There aren’t enough people here now to fill even a quarter of the wing, let alone the entirety of it, and at the very least such knowledge fills her with confidence in maintained privacy. Well, aside from omnipresent Athena.

On second thought, not particularly private.

Huntress is running on autopilot though, and the monologue is an old repetition. All things considered, she’s probably less bothered by the AI than she ought to be, but there’s little convincing her tired brain to give any sort of damn about what appears to be a non-issue, anyway; Athena has been surprisingly respectful of her privacy so far. As has most everyone else… mostly. She shakes the thoughts off as she reaches her room, the soft hum of the door sliding open like a familiar welcome. It’s a sparse room, but it’s not meant to be much more than a little cove of privacy, and Huntress is pulling off her cloak once she’s within the threshold; it feels like she’s been hiding under it for ages lately, and she feels exposed once she’s set it aside. But how much good will it do for her back out in the next battle if Talon lets their sniper loose again?

She shivers a little, hand hovering over her mask to remove it when a knock sounds at the door.

“... Athena?”

The AI’s response comes as the opening of a comm channel, but the voice is someone else’s, a familiar and lightly-accented one with a mechanical modulation to it. Genji, of course. “We did not see you in the mess hall. Doctor Zeigler wishes you to eat, so I brought you a tray.”

A groan escapes, and through the comm channel she swears she can just hear the softest of laughs - shit, did he hear that? Now she wants to groan even more, but all she does is sigh, “Come in.”

The door slides open again, and she turns to see the cyborg enter with a tray that seems a little… weighed down with food. Okay, do they really think she’ll be able to eat _all_ of that? Maybe she is a bit hungry, but even her stomach has its limits, and she eyes the tray plus its bearer with some measure of discomfort as he sets it down on the desk adjacent to the door, which slides shut after a moment. Wait.

“I was told I should make sure that you eat something,” Genji stated, voice lilting with a faint hint of amusement. Under her half mask Huntress can feel her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment, and she whirls away from him, trying to find some sort of response that won’t begin with her sputtering like an embarrassed teenager would. “I don’t - I’m capable of eating on my own without supervision. The doctor is just overreacting, I would’ve come out for food later. When I felt like it.”

But when she glances back over Genji has only settled himself in by commandeering the desk chair, turned it in her direction and sat himself down cross-legged, hands rested lightly on his knees. _Great_.

“Doctor Zeigler is just trying to keep everyone healthy, Huntress. No one here considers you incapable, so please don't feel offended when help is offered. We are a team, after all.”

Team is straining it a little; still, Huntress has to admit there are a few moments still clear in her mind when teamwork had flown smoothly, though. She just doesn’t want to admit to needing any help. Isn’t she the one with the fancy cloak and the fancy rifle, the one who’s been helping out? Her problems should be her own, along with everything else she’s brought with her.

She still hasn’t moved when Genji sighs a little, and surprisingly reaches up his hands near the back of his head. The soft hiss of compressed air being released startles her - she hadn’t even realized the faceplate could be removed, and she finds herself holding her breath for a moment as he takes it off, eyes widening a fraction when she sees the scarred skin come into view, his angular eyes somehow far sharper than the bright green of his visor. Uncomfortably, she’s reminded of how Hanzo had watched her. Brothers, indeed. The metal that frames his face makes the sight disconcerting as she continues to stare until finally averting her gaze, mumbling a tiny apology.

“It is not shameful to accept help when it is offered to you, though I can see you do not feel the same about this. I have needed much help in my life, and while I might have once felt resentful of it like you do, I have learned much since then, and I hope you can come to the same realization that I did. So please, eat. It will make you feel better.”

His voice lacks that strange mechanical tinge to it now; she finds herself unable to look him in the eye, feeling pinned as if caught against the wall with those shuriken of his. The silence is too uncomfortable to stand in. Huntress jerks a little as if freeing herself, turning and moving to sit down on the bunk across the room and forcing her eyes closed, as if doing so might somehow erase how stifling the atmosphere of the room feels right now. Even that doesn’t end anything, though; soon enough there’s a weight on her lap, and a weight settled on the bed beside her, just far enough away to respect personal space. When she opens her eyes and looks down the tray of food is there, and a glance over finds Genji with his hands folded neatly in his lap, visor back on his face as if it had never left.

She can’t eat with the mask on - she doesn’t want to remove it while Genji’s here. It’s an impasse that he seems content to wait out, almost still as a statue but for the faint motion of breathing. Ugh.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she mumbles, twisting away from him and hesitantly reaching up, fingertips resting for a long moment before prying at the corner latches that let it fall forward and down, though still attached to the neck cover. Only furtively does she glance back at him, and as before he seems unmoving, just _waiting_. It’s driving her nuts, but she snatches up the fork on the tray and forces herself to start eating, so unfocused that she can’t even taste most of it.

There’s still a fair amount left when she feels too full to eat anymore - the feeling of fullness actually provokes a faint nausea, and she swallows uncomfortably, almost turning back to Genji before she remembers her mask and hastily puts it back in place.

“There, I ate. Better?”

“Doctor Zeigler will be pleased. You can take your time eating the rest, but please do not let it sit out too long.” Genji’s voice is surprisingly calm, rather than the sort of lightly teasing tone she’d expected. “Right…”

She doesn’t think she’ll be eating the rest. But she doesn’t say that and just picks up the tray, standing and carrying it back over to the desk across the room. When she turns back, Genji’s not on the bed - no, wait, there, at the door. He’s alarmingly fast sometimes, it always startles her. He tilts his head slightly, offering her a polite, carefully angled bow. “I hope you will recover your strength soon, Huntress. I look forward to seeing you well-rested and on the battlefield again.”

Silent, all she offers him is a small nod in return, troubling thoughts making her stomach churn as the door opens to let him leave; as it hisses shut, Huntress moves back to her bed and reaches under it for the bottle hiding under there, tearing off her mask as she does.

She doesn’t like how strong whiskey is, or the taste, or much of anything about it - it’s opened and a heavy swallow of it leaves her coughing a little afterwards.

“Not a word,” she mutters for Athena’s benefit, then takes another drink.


	5. meditate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate chapter title: huntress is hungover and hates life. mild warning for mentions of vomiting, but no cookies have been tossed in this chapter.

The morning of her first rest day is spent buffing away her hangover by buffing away the scorch marks on Bastion’s outer shell, every little chirp of the omnic’s companion sending a throbbing ache through her poor head. Her arms feel leaden, but she doesn’t stop until most of the black has transferred from the omnic’s cover to her buffing rag - there, now Bastion doesn’t look quite so much a battered war machine. The little bird seems to examine her work with an inquisitive chirp, and it sends another ache crawling through her brain, causing her to lean against Bastion with a groan. The omnic whirs in confusion, but she just gives it a light pat to avoid any loud questioning beeps.

“Morning, love!”

A chipper British accent, high enough in pitch to ring in her ears uncomfortably, and Huntress doesn’t have to move from her spot to know who it is. “Morning.”

Suddenly there’s a lidded cup of coffee being wiggled under her nose and she jerks away belatedly, drawing a bout of laughter that makes her grimace, though the gesture is hidden as always. Tracer has leaned herself against Bastion as well, smiling.

“Someone get out the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“Just a headache,” Huntress mumbles, already looking for an opportunity to escape. It’s never intended of course, but the cheery woman tends to grate on her nerves just a little every time they run into each other, and with a hangover this isn’t really the sort of conversation she’s enjoying. Bastion seems to get it at least; the omnic’s hand is suddenly patting the top of her head with surprising gentleness, and a few mechanized whirs convey a sympathy of sorts. She gives another pat to Bastion in response.

“Huntress?”  
  
Tracer has been going on about something about the training yard when an entirely different but all-too-familiar voice calls for her, and she seizes on the distraction to march off, away from a confused Tracer who’s staring after her and scratching her head. A rude way to leave a conversation, but her head is pounding and she feels decidedly nauseous; it’d be even ruder to heave onto Tracer’s fancy leggings.

Genji is holding a tray again, holding it out to her when she’s close enough. Huntress stares at it blankly, then glances instead to Genji’s current companion, an unfamiliar face. Huh. Another omnic, how about that.

“You slept well, I hope?” he’s asking politely.

She shrugs, still taking in his friend’s appearance. A weirdly sad seeming face, glowing blue dots on the forehead… not a kind of omnic she’s familiar with, really. And floating, for that matter. Fancy. Her mouth is unpleasantly dry at this point, and she wets her lips before giving a nod of acknowledgement to the omnic, who returns the gesture, hands pressing together lightly as well. “Greetings. My student Genji asked me to accompany him today, so I may grow familiar with this Watchpoint. It is a pleasure to meet you, Huntress - you may call me Zenyatta.”

“... You’re from the Shambali?”

“That is correct, though I am no longer affiliated with them,” Zenyatta nods. Though the voice is masculine Huntress has always been hesitant in assigning genders to omnics without more certainty about it, and she falls silent, glancing back to the tray that Genji has yet to stop holding out to her. Ugh, he’s not going to give up about the food thing, is he?

Finally she takes it though when she notices a pair of pills in the corner of the tray. Wait, how did he…? Right, Athena. She sends a threatening glare to the nearest security camera in the area.

“I was hoping you would join us for meditation, Huntress. It would help clear your mind,” Genji offers, as always unreadable with that green visor. A glance between him and Zenyatta, then over to where Tracer appears to be trying to chat with Bastion, for all that Huntress knows she’s the only human around right now who can understand the omnic’s mechanical language. It’s surprisingly not as hard of a choice as she thought it might be; meditation is a quiet activity, while Tracer never fails to get on her nerves, and the last thing she wants is to be dragged into whatever mischief the woman might be planning.

“Sure. Why not.”

“Wonderful! We are glad for your company.” Zenyatta’s hands spread in a welcoming gesture as Genji nods in agreement, already turning and starting off. His omnic mentor floats behind him, and Huntress brings up the rear of their little group, glancing down at the food on the tray with a small measure of distaste. The nausea has yet to abate, in fact doubling when the scent of food infiltrates her mask. God, she can hardly focus on walking like this, let alone following after Genji. But she forces one foot after the other, and when they seem to have reached a secluded area she stumbles to a halt and leans herself up against the nearest wall, sliding down it after a moment and catching her fingers up in her bangs as she breathes heavily, fighting the roiling storm her guts are inciting right now. It’d probably feel easier to breathe with her mask off, but it’s the same problem as before - she finally just pulls her legs up close and drops her forehead onto her knees, fingers fumbling with the latches until the damn thing drops down and allows her to suck in air that hasn’t been humidified with her own breath. There.

A hand is resting on her shoulder. She judges it to be Genji’s when he murmurs, “One of those pills is for nausea. You should take it as soon as you think you can keep it down.”

His fingers are gently pressing it into her hand now. A few moments to wait until her breathing slows, and she shakily puts it to her mouth, swallowing it dry and gagging a bit at the way it seems to stick in her throat. There’s a little plastic cup of cold water placed in her grasp, and for a solid moment she stops giving a damn and lifts her head so she can down it in one go, eyes squeezed shut as she wipes the cold sweat off her brow. Then she drops her head again, feeling Genji’s hand withdraw from her shoulder. It takes a little while before her stomach stops wrenching around so violently, but once it does she blindly feels along the edge of the tray for the second pill, swallowed dry again with no water to wash it down this time. She doesn’t really care - as long as the headache goes away.

Fumbling to put her mask back in place, when she raises her head with open eyes she can see Zenyatta and Genji both a reasonable distance from her, settled on the ground with crossed legs. Hands resting over their knees with palms up… it almost looks cliche, but restful all the same. Her legs shake a little as she stands, but she manages to rise and walk the short distance to settle herself back down near them, cross-legged herself but with hands folded in her lap instead, glancing between the two of them.

“You should start by closing your eyes, Huntress. It is easier to meditate when one is not focused on the physical environment surrounding them,” Zenyatta speaks serenely. Huntress wants to make a snarky quip about being unable to tell if the omnic’s optics are shut off, but her head is still aching, and closing her eyes actually does make it hurt a little less.

“Breathe deeply and slowly, in and out. Feel the ground beneath you, embrace the sensations you feel right now, and let them wash over you as the tide upon the shore…”

At the very least, Zenyatta’s voice is soothing and easy on her ears; despite herself, the tension she’s been holding herself with starts to ease up, a low sigh escaping her as her thoughts start to wander elsewhere amidst the calming wash of Zenyatta’s words. The events of yesterday… the mission before that. Genji’s brother, those dark and serious eyes, the bold patterns of ink on his bare shoulder. How it had felt to grapple with him in that sniper’s nest. Genji’s warnings… and the strange amount of care which he had shown for her so far. There’s a lot to think about, most of it avoided so far; one hand is clenched over the other as it curls into a fist, fingernails digging in even through the gloves she’s wearing. All of the tension is back tenfold now, a maelstrom of mixed emotions wrenching her guts around along with a downpour of questions, most starting with the word ‘why’.

Most of all: why is she still here, anyway?

“Many of us have reasons for hiding our faces,” Genji begins quietly, “what is yours?”

She hesitates. “... Talon. If they figure out my identity, everyone connected to me is in danger. I’d rather not put anyone through that.”

Silence settles in for a while, until finally she thinks she hears a quiet laugh. She opens an eye just enough to squint at Genji, though he doesn’t react (she can only presume his eyes are closed as well). “You have a good heart, Huntress. It is good that you are on our side.”

There’s nothing to say to that - shoulders shrug awkwardly in response, even thinking he won’t see the gesture, and she breathes in slowly, trying to find the relaxation she had just a minute ago. But Hanzo is still there in the back of her mind, a presence she can’t shake, and she only sits for a few minutes longer, rising to her feet more steadily than she had last time. The ache of her head is little more than a dull throb from time to time now, and her stomach is relatively calm, but she makes no move to go to the food tray.

“I should go, I… need to go practice. With my rifle.”

“We enjoyed having your company, Huntress. Please, feel free to join us again anytime you wish,” Zenyatta replies. Genji is silent, but she swears she can feel his gaze on her back as she turns and begins walking away, sharp enough to leave her feeling uncomfortably exposed. Just her imagination, she has to tell herself, but the feeling lessens when she’s out of sight from them.

Shit, she hates feeling uncertain like this. Punching the wall and muttering a few choice curses, she stomps off towards the training yard. Destroying practice bots will make her feel better.

Hopefully.


	6. disorientation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one got so out of control so um. it's long. warnings for violence, injuries, cleaning injuries with alcohol... good times. there might actually be a fucking plot in this fic somewhere, who knows.

It takes a few more days of moping around the base before Mercy finally pronounces her fit for combat operations again. That also included several more delivered food trays - not all of them delivered by Genji, thankfully - and even another morning of meditation, again left in a hurry when thoughts grew too overwhelming to bear. She can’t help it, she can admit to herself, the tendency to think and think and think the moment there’s peace and quiet. It’s why she busies herself with training for the duration of her ‘break’, and does her best to avoid Genji when she sees him. The man provokes too many troubling thoughts and asks too many questions.

But finally she’s headed off base again, with yet another new arrangement of teammates to get used to. Of course Genji is here, as is Zenyatta; Reinhardt takes up almost as much space as Winston had in the last mission, if not more with the way his boisterous voice fills the transport; Tracer’s supposed to be paying more attention to the transport than the people in it, but of course she can’t help but dart back and forth every now and then, which Huntress manages to find obnoxious; and lastly, Bastion has practically turned himself into a box with an optical bar, the occasional whirr of mechanisms the only indication the omnic hasn’t shut off entirely. She can only imagine that to be Reinhardt’s fault, having heard some of his war stories. Poor Bastion.

Comforting the omnic until their transport touches down, she hasn’t taken any glances outside yet when Tracer cheerfully announces, “We’re here, loves, let’s get going!”

Huntress waits until the others have filed out before standing, glancing to Bastion; the unit doesn’t seem particularly interested in moving, and she sighs, crouching in front of the omnic. “Come on now. We’ve got work to do.”

A low, whining sort of whirr.

“The team is here for you, promise. I need that big gun of yours to help out, okay?”

After a few more plaintive sounds, Bastion is unfolding himself back to normal recon state, though clearly still uncertain about leaving the transport. Huntress coaxes him out patiently, most of the way down the ramp when she realizes Zenyatta has been watching, difficult to read with such an unchanging face.

“Bastion’s fine. Just needs baby steps,” she mumbles awkwardly to explain the lag, giving Bastion a quick pat once it steps off onto the ground before she hastens away in the direction she presumes the team has gone, judging by the sound of Reinhardt’s hard to miss laughter. It’s no wonder the man wears so much armor - drawing as much attention as he does, he’s pretty much a go-to target.

A few turns later, she’s lost. Almost embarrassingly so.

She swears she keeps hearing Reinhardt’s voice just up ahead, around the next bend, up those stairs… or maybe not. Belatedly she feels an instinctive sense of danger and activates her cloak, slides into an alley and kneels behind a pile of old crates. A loud _tsk_ ing comes from the mouth of the alley and she tenses, hands tightening on her weapon. “You know, for someone with the _cojones_ to steal from Talon’s _amigos_ , you sure don’t catch on very fast to being baited.”

Huntress remains silent and cloaked, listening for the sound of footsteps. There’s an exasperated sigh.

“Come on, I'm not doing the killing around here right now, stop hiding. Besides…” After a few moments, with a flickering of pink energy, there’s a woman right in front of her hiding spot, leaning down with a devilish smile - and her own cloak deactivates, leaving her staring wide-eyed as a finger pokes right between her eyes. “Boop. My cloak is better than yours.”

She’s frozen for the moment, clutching tight to her rifle. There’s a thought to use it, but the woman shakes her head with another smile as if reading her mind, waving the machine pistol in hand. “Let’s play nice today, why don’t we? I just want to talk.”

“Nice. Sure…”

Her legs feel a bit shaky as she rises, watching the other with nervousness that she vainly tries to mask by loosening her grip on her weapon. Still smiling, the other props her hands on her hips.

“So I hear Widowmaker tried to kill you a few days ago, that must’ve been exciting! And then Reaper before that, he’s pretty tough to escape from! Oh Gabe, such a charming personality. ‘Focus on the mission, Sombra’, and ‘the door, Sombra’, really! I work so hard, but I never get any thanks.” Her voice fluctuates with a melodramatic tone, attempting deep and gruff as a poor imitation of Reaper’s voice. Huntress just keeps her gaze focused and mind as clear as she can, trying to formulate an escape route. Her cloak will be off cooldown in just a little while, maybe feint for the right and then climb the crates for a height advantage…

“ _Anyway_ , Mockingbird Technology Industries. Ring any bells?”

The breath catches in her throat, eyes widening as Sombra’s fingers pull open a holographic display, a newspaper article: **Mystery Break-in At Mockingbird Industries Sets Back Privately Funded Ventures: Culprit Considered Public Safety Threat**.

She’s almost numb with fear, and the other’s smile only widens, eyes glinting.

“I’m sure you haven’t told your friends about this yet, am I right? Such a _terrible_ way to introduce yourself, as a threat to public safety. Wouldn’t want to make them _furioso_ , _sí?_ Might even start them into looking at who you really are under that goofy little mask.” Sombra’s examining the nails on her hand - no, glove. Weird. Then with the wave of a hand she dispels the display and turns away, huffing as if annoyed. “Really though, the ones who are angry right now are Talon, _amiga_. This whole invisibility thing, I’m not really one to share you know. And then you went right under their noses and took the prototype they had commissioned! They don’t like threats they don’t know.”

Sombra is looking over her shoulder at Huntress, playfulness replaced by a calculating look - as if trying to decide how much value can be found in the one-sided conversation. Huntress swallows her fear, jaw tightening.

“So what are you trying to do? Scare me?”

Sombra laughs, turning toward her with fingers curling, as if she might offer her a hand. “ _Amiga_ , if you aren’t already scared then you’re tougher than I thought you would be. But no, I’m just the messenger: Talon’s going to figure you out, sooner or later. Buuut, if you do me a few favors… I might happen to have a few tricks up my sleeve to share. _Comprende_?”

Suddenly a small device is in Sombra’s hand - a communication piece, Huntress gathers. It’s extended toward her, but she hesitates for a long time, eyes flickering between the object and Sombra’s sharp little smile that only grows. “Think faster, _Huntress_.”

She snatches the device up at the sound of footsteps approaching; with a grin and a wave Sombra is gone, invisible.

“Sombra, do you have the target?”

A gravelly voice from the mouth of the alley that sends chills down her spine; on reflex she cloaks, another shiver overtaking her when Sombra’s voice pipes up from there as well, “Go take a look, Gabe, her cloak can’t last forever.”

The thought of sitting and waiting for death to come to her is suddenly unbearable, and unthinkingly she steps out from her hiding place and fires a shot at Reaper - a miss. Another shot, another miss, hands trembling as she steps backwards. Still invisible for now, but Reaper is stepping forward in turn with a low, terrible chuckle that builds into a laugh which freezes the marrow in her bones, curdles the blood in her veins, breaths coming sporadically as she tries to calm down enough to aim. It’s too hard to use the scope like this, trembling and in black and white vision - until her cloak deactivates, and the ghoulish mask is in sharp relief. She shoots again. The bullet ricochets off the mask and sends his head tilting up with a terrible _crack_ ; for an instant he halts, and she almost breathes a sigh of relief.

There’s another cracking sound, his head tilting back down to face her again. There’s a tiny whimper in her throat that dies out. “You _can’t_ kill me that easy.”

_Thwump_.

An arrowhead is protruding from his shoulder. The dull yellow feathers it’s fletched with are visible to Huntress from where she’s standing and immediately recognizable, though it only leads to a stare of confusion, standing like a deer in the headlights as Reaper starts pulling out one of his guns with his uninjured side. The next arrow whizzes past her ear, and reflexively she skitters to the side, conveniently avoiding the blast of Reaper’s shotgun. She can hear the aggravated grunt as he yanks the arrow out of his shoulder, the clatter of it hitting the ground, and finally realizes the distraction it’s meant to be.

She heaves a breath, then dashes down the alley toward the other side, the sound of shotguns going off behind her a solid encouragement to keep moving. Fortune isn’t entirely on her side though; one of the next blasts sends a jolt of pain through her shoulder, driving a brief cry from her as she stumbles and nearly falls. But she's still on her feet, which carry her out onto the street and into another alley. Reaper’s footsteps are pounding after her, matching the pounding of her pulse.

A hand catches her where one alley intersects with another, a solid yank that drags her sideways, then backwards until a door closes in front of her nose with surprisingly little noise, but as she turns another hand slides over her mouth to silence her, dark and serious eyes bearing down on her with a clear message: be silent.

There are pounding footsteps outside, but they halt before fading away, a growl in Reaper’s voice as he speaks up. “Sombra, do you have eyes on the target?”

There’s no reply that Huntress can hear, but Reaper’s irritated grunt makes her guess they have earpieces. Well, good to know that Reaper _has_ ears to wear one of those in. It makes him seem less… insubstantial, like there might actually be a human under the mask. “Regroup. We’re surrendering the objective for now.”

The footsteps fade away, and she exhales with relief, suddenly starting to sag until there’s a pair of hands supporting her, keeping her from crumpling to the ground.

“You’re hurt,” Hanzo states quietly, and Huntress can’t help but roll her eyes. “No shit, Sherlock.”

She doesn’t know what he’s doing here, why he pulled her out of danger, or why he’s carefully slinging her arm over his shoulder, practically carrying her into what looks like an abandoned kitchen. There’s a stool in a corner that he drags closer to the nearest light source, an open window, and sets her down on. “Take your cloak off.”

“Wh-”

“I cannot tend to your injury unless you remove your cloak.”

That draws a look somewhere between bewildered and indignant from her, yet the archer is just standing there with crossed arms, expression as neutral as can be. This is getting far too strange for Huntress; she starts to stand, wobbling a little, but Hanzo’s hand is already pushing her back down on the stool, seemingly made of steel from the way he holds on through her squirming and pained whining. “I don’t need - any tending - let go!”

No response from him beyond a continued grasp that patiently waits until she gives up. Another glance back shows her an expectant look on his face now, and for an instant it feels like Genji is the one staring at her. Ugh. Definitely siblings.

“This is weird,” she grumbles under her breath, but reaches up to take off the cloak as ordered, rolling it up and holding it in her lap as Hanzo moves to inspect the holes torn in her outfit along one shoulder, where she can feel warm trickles of blood soaking into the cloth there. His touch is surprisingly gentle when she can actually feel it, though she still winces a little from time to time. It doesn’t feel to her like there’s too much damage - after all, there had been distance between her and Reaper, a good way to reduce the lethality of any shotgun…

“There is shot embedded in your shoulder,” he murmurs, “I’m going to remove it. Give me your knife.”

Another moment in which she freezes up today, eyes somewhat widened in alarm. What now? “What… no, use your own knife!”

“I do not have one,” Hanzo deadpans.

Huntress chokes on a groan - what the hell kind of situation is this supposed to be? What if he uses it against her? Well, honestly, if he had wanted her dead he probably would’ve put an arrow in her head back in that alleyway without ever bothering to shoot Reaper in the shoulder… but dammit if she doesn’t feel incredibly strange unsheathing her knife and passing it over her uninjured shoulder to him. “This is going to hurt. Brace yourself.”

“No shit,” she mutters, one hand grasping tightly at the stock of her rifle while the other clutches at her cloak. The sting of the blade tip digging at her injuries is instantly noticeable and draws a hiss of pain, but Hanzo seems unaffected and unfaltering in his work, the sharp little tapping of shotgun pellets hitting the tile floor marking each successful removal - the wounds are shallow judging by how little effort it’s taking him, and again she’s glad there was distance between her and her pursuer. The pain makes the procedure seem to drag on, but finally the digging ceases, and her knife is offered back to her, the tip still bloody when she takes it; she absently wipes it off on the side of her leg before re-sheathing it, starting to rise until Hanzo’s grasp pushes her back down for a second time.

“Let me disinfect your injury first. It will only take a moment.”

She gives a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Whatever.”

Turning to look shows he’s retrieving a small jug resting on his hip, tied there with blue rope. When he unstops it the familiar crisp odor of alcohol reaches her nose, causing her face to wrinkle a little. This is going to hurt more than the first part did.

His hand rests on her uninjured shoulder again, though maybe this time it’s meant to steady her - she bites down hard on her tongue as the first splash of liquid trickles down her other shoulder, bringing a burning, stinging sensation that makes her eyes water. Shit, what the hell kind of alcohol does he carry around that could be so strong? Eyes squeeze shut until the pain dulls, and when she finally opens them Hanzo is walking past her, toward the door they had entered from.

“Wh - wait a second. Hanzo.”

The archer halts. She wonders if it surprised him that she knew his name, or maybe just the fact she had used it. “Why are you here? Why did you - why did you save my life.”

An uncomfortable sensation, admitting that he had indeed saved her life. After a moment of silence he turns around, fingers feeling over the string of the bow being carried opposite of his quiver. Such a weirdly archaic method of fighting, just as weird as his brother. Huntress can only continue to wonder about it.

“I had come in order to deliver a message to my brother,” he begins, looking just as uncomfortable as she feels. “In doing so, I came across your situation, and chose to intervene in your favor. Talon has interests that do not align with my own… and I will not be allying myself with them.”

Huntress supposes the message is supposed to make her feel relieved in some fashion. “Is that what you wanted to tell Genji?”

She swears that his lips twitch ever so slightly.

“That is only part of the message. The rest I would rather tell to Genji himself. In private.” Well so much for being a messenger; for some reason she feels a bit put-out by his secrecy, but on the other hand she doesn’t really blame him. Talking to a family member isn’t always the kind of dirty laundry a person wants to air out for the rest of the world to see, after all.

There’s only a faint metallic note on the wind to warn her before a trio of projectiles pass by her head, spinning right in Hanzo’s direction. The archer’s reflexes are admirably quick - in an instant he has his bow in hand and deflects the projectiles with the broadest portion of the bow's upper limb, sending them off into the wall instead. Shuriken, she realizes, as the door is broken down out of its frame with a single kick and Genji is in the room, his short blade in one hand and another set of shuriken in the other. She feels as if she’s about to watch them lunge at one another with the tension as high as it is, and yet… Hanzo hasn’t drawn an arrow, holding his bow defensively. Genji is looking her way now, and she blinks, unable to come up with any words.

The shuriken disappear into slots between his fingers, his sword lowers, and suddenly Huntress wonders if why he charged in so abruptly is because he thought she might be in danger. Considering all his warnings… it makes sense.

“Brother.” Hanzo is the first to speak, giving Genji a curt nod while slowly returning his bow to his shoulder. Genji is slow to straighten up, but quick to sheathe his blade, glancing to Huntress as she unrolls her cloak and puts it on. No need to get him concerned about her shoulder, not when there’s something obviously more important going on.

“Hanzo. I did not expect to see you here,” Genji finally replies.

She feels uneasy watching this overly polite exchange, slowly standing and hefting her rifle up into both hands. The motion draws the attention of both, leaving her feeling pinned for the moment until she takes a deep breath. “I’m… going to go. You two talk.”

With that, she makes a quick escape out the empty doorframe.


	7. paradigm shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate chapter title: everyone's uncomfortable and huntress demands answers. idk this one's kinda boring but hey!! look!!!! plot-like action!!!!!! who knew lol. Now edited to be in line with the latest comic, thanks blizzard for making me come back and rewrite that dialogue. ugh.

Somehow she isn’t surprised to find Zenyatta waiting a few yards from the door, hovering as always and hands gently steepled downward in their lap. She gives an awkward nod of acknowledgement, and in return watches the omnic direct one of the orbs around their neck gently in her direction, a soft glow emanating from it. The sensation is actually rather calming - she realizes the ache of her injury is fading, and a hand discreetly feels up under her cloak to find smooth, uninterrupted skin through the holes still left in her clothing. Huh.

“You are well, Huntress?”

“Yeah… yeah. Fine. Genji is uh - talking to his brother. Did I miss the fight?”

“Talon chose to disengage after a brief conflict,” Zenyatta replies, as serene as ever, “and the rest of the team has returned to the transport. Genji was concerned when you never arrived.”

“Genji’s _always_ concerned,” she mumbles quietly, shaking her head a little before hefting her rifle again to feel the comforting weight of it. It feels like Reaper’s shotguns are still ringing in her ears, and the thought of getting back to base seems like a good idea. Stepping past Zenyatta, she exhales slowly, trying to find her cool again. “They probably need a little space. I’m going back to the transport.”

Without the misleading sounds from before it isn’t too difficult to find the right path; when she glances back she finds Zenyatta is only a little ways behind in following, and the orb from before is still hovering close to her, glowing as it bobs along like a buoy through water. Alright then.

“There are not many humans who communicate as well as you do with those of us who do not have voices,” Zenyatta offers, just a hint of suggestion in there.

Huntress snorts. “I’ve had practice. After I showed up and joined the party, the Swedish engineer, Torbjörn - he showed up with Bastion, said the 'scrapheap' needed to be kept out of the public eye and thought the recall was a good chance to stow it somewhere safe. Reinhardt didn't want it anywhere near the watchpoint... I got along with Bastion better than either of them, though, so Torbjörn said 'play babysitter' and left it at that. The circuits got messed up at some point, don’t know why or how long it’s been like that, but whatever sort of war machine Bastion was before, things are different now. There’s no omnium gone wild influencing any actions…”

She trails off, realizing Zenyatta is alongside her now, the bulk of the transport just ahead. Oh, Bastion is sitting at the foot of the ramp. Picking up her pace, she does a quick once-over of the omnic when she gets close; no damage has been done this time it seems, and when several curious beeps and hums are directed at her she shrugs a little.

“Huntress! You’re alright, we were so worried about you!”

Oh God - here comes Tracer, faster than she can respond, and with a leap into a hug the pilot sends them toppling backwards against Bastion. Huntress hisses with surprise and pain, considering the action knocked her head on the unit’s cover.

“Get off me, Tracer, of course I’m alright,” she grumbles and gives the other a push. Ugh, that chronal accelerator strapped to Tracer’s chest sure hits hard, and she’s a bit winded now. Of course, the situation is quickly exacerbated when Reinhardt comes stomping down the ramp. “Huntress, my friend, you have returned safely! We had feared the worst!”

Picked up and hugged by a man a good two feet taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier… she wheezes a little, squirming weakly. “Reinhardt - stop - can’t breathe.”

When she’s finally set down she leans against Bastion and wheezes to try and get her breath back, listening to the bubbly laughter from the two of them while Bastion’s hand gives her a gentle pat on the back. A glance to find Zenyatta spots the omnic a few feet away, seemingly content to just watch without joining in. Personally she doesn’t blame him for keeping his distance when Tracer and Reinhardt are as excitable as they are.

“So Genji and Zenyatta found you, right? What happened?”

She hesitates, and suddenly it feels like the ‘gift’ from Sombra is burning a hole through the pocket she’s stowed it in. Maybe not something she ought to talk about, all things considered. “I uh… got cut off from the team, by Reaper. Had to run for it.”

“Oh, golly! And then what?”  
  
“And then my brother saved her life.” Genji’s voice is unexpected, causing Huntress to jump before she looks toward the man - and he isn’t alone. There’s Hanzo, calm as can be, even though there seems to be tension now in Tracer and Reinhardt when she looks to them. Bastion’s whirring cluelessly, Zenyatta seems undisturbed… and Huntress isn’t really sure what category she falls into right now. But it feels strange, seeing the two of them standing side by side. Incredibly strange, to be honest. Especially knowing how close Hanzo had come to getting shurikens to the face not even ten minutes go. Silence reigns for a brief moment, and then she clears her throat awkwardly, not yet moving away from the security of Bastion’s side.

“So uh. Messages delivered, I guess.”

Hanzo’s lips seem to quirk for a moment, and then his face is neutral again. “Indeed.”

“Hanzo would like to join us, as a team member.” That sends looks through the group, the most quizzical from Tracer, and the least readable being the Shimada brothers, and Zenyatta of course. Soldier:76 isn’t here to be making any decisions, much as he paints himself as reluctant to lead, but finally Reinhardt seems to remember his seniority and steps forward, placing a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “We would appreciate your help. I’ve heard much of your skills.”

“I would be honored to put them to use alongside my brother once more,” Hanzo replies demurely; the whole exchange seems weirdly subdued though, and Huntress has the nagging sensation there’s something she doesn’t know right now.

A glance to Tracer earns her a weirdly tight-lipped smile - yeah, that’s not suspicious at all.

But she’s ready to get back to base and stop thinking so much about the way Genji and Hanzo seem to be mincing around each other now; shaking her head, she whistles to Bastion and starts up the ramp, hearing the clunking footsteps that follow as she steps into the transport and finds her usual seat. The omnic folds itself up close by, and shortly after the rest of the team along with their newest addition are on the transport, which Tracer sets off on its course back to Gibraltar. Reinhardt is unusually quiet and Tracer seems oddly focused on piloting - it’s a situation no one quite knows how to handle, Huntress muses. Genji and Zenyatta have their own corner, seeming to have a soft yet intense discussion (intense on Genji’s side, at least). And Hanzo… he’s sitting on his own, legs folded under him and hands resting on his knees, palms down and eyes closed. He doesn’t look peaceful though, more in deep concentration, if anything. She wonders at what might be going on in his head. He’s so mysterious it’s practically a cliche by now.

The flight goes swiftly, and before she knows it they’re touching down in the transport bay. Bastion doesn’t need coaxing now that Gibraltar is now home territory - the omnic is first out with thumping steps, off to find its avian companion no doubt. Everyone else is filing out as well, Tracer at a sprint - Huntress doesn’t doubt the other woman is off to tell literally everyone that Genji’s brother is here. Reinhardt’s off, Zenyatta surprisingly on his own…

Huntress starts to stand, rubbing the back of her head and cringing at the tender lump forming there. Her sides ache too, and her sternum. Ugh, team affection hurts worse than enemy fire, honestly. A glance to Genji, then Hanzo, and she feels awkward once more, shuffling towards the exit ramp.

“You go by Huntress, correct?”

It’s Hanzo who speaks, rising to his feet with fluid grace and stepping over. Her eyes can’t help but trail over his bare shoulder and arm for the moment - ah, a dragon, storm clouds, lightning - and then flick back to his face, caught up by those eyes again as she gives a small nod. He seems to hesitate for a long moment, then bows, a deeper gesture than she would’ve expected. “I must apologize for our first meeting. The circumstances were... not ideal.”

Oh. Um. She blinks a few times, then shakes her head quickly, taking a second to swallow before she responds, “It’s fine, really. Water under the bridge.”

His eyebrows quirk as he straightens up, but he seems to accept the words at face value.

“Hanzo. The others will want to see us. We should go.” Genji’s brushing past her, a hand resting on her shoulder for just an instant until he’s past, and before she realizes it the two have given her nods of farewell and hurried off, leaving her to stand alone. The silence is actually a little unnerving, and she slowly walks down the ramp, feeling for the device in her pocket again. There’s a temptation just to _try_ , but a voice in the back of her mind shouting not to. What if it’s really just a trap? They aren’t as large a group as Talon, not by a long shot, and for the Gibraltar Watchpoint to get highlighted on the map as a base of the majority of their operations… she’s too on edge just thinking about it, quickening her pace until she breaks into a run that leads her to the main communication bay. She sprints past Winston, who’s mildly disgruntled by the short human flying past him, up the stairs and past the banks housing Athena’s hardware, to the main interface where she slides to a halt, yanking the device out of her pocket and holding it up.

“Athena, I need to know. Who is Sombra?”


	8. thread pulling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate title: huntress is a trainwreck whoops. in her defense at least she's not drinking to cope this time.

“You mean the Sombra Collective? There’s been much investigation into the rumors of-”

“No,” Huntress cuts off the AI, giving the small device a shake, “I said _who_ , not what. There was a woman she was, there were… she. She called him Gabe.”

A fact that had been lingering in the back of her mind, and now she latches onto it, yet another puzzle piece she has no idea what to do with. But it has to be important somehow. Reaper’s name is Gabe… Gabriel? She shakes her head a little, trying to refocus on the more pertinent issue. “Athena, whether there’s a collective or not, this woman - she was working with Reaper, and she called herself Sombra. And she gave me this. Can you do something with it? Check it for bugs or something?”

She gives it another shake, listening to the approaching steps of Winston behind her.

“It would have to be connected to my system, Huntress. If there is a virus in that device it could be what… this Sombra wanted you to do. It is not an action I can recommend,” Athena replies evenly. She glances to Winston as he enters the room, holding the communication piece up to his face now. He draws back a little in response, adjusting his glasses. “What’s the problem, now?”

“I got this from a woman working with Reaper who called herself Sombra,” she enunciates carefully, giving it yet another shake as she continues, “Can you do something with it? Check it for viruses, see if there’s GPS on it, anything?”

Seeming taken aback by her behavior, the scientist blinks a few times before taking it from her grasp to examine it more carefully, which actually makes her sigh a little in relief - it’s no longer in her hands, thank God. A few anxious moments of watching him and she can’t stand waiting any longer, whirling back around to look at the default displays Athena has running. Her fingers itch to start tapping away at the keyboard and start asking more questions, about Sombra, about Reaper, Talon, Widowmaker… whether her own identity is safe right now. She’d gone off the grid rather well before changing her life so drastically, but…

“I don’t know what I can do that wouldn’t set off anything it might be programmed with,” Winston sighs finally, and Huntress finds herself gritting her teeth. “What am _I_ supposed to do, then?”

“Why did Sombra give you that device?” Athena counters with another question, forcing her to pause for a moment to recollect her memories. What an uncomfortable conversation that had been, a shiver going down her back when she remembers Sombra’s smile. “I… she was trying to blackmail me. Said she’d help me out if I did her ‘a few favors’ or something. I don’t know. Reaper showed up after that.”

She falls silent, shaking her head before she finds a way to navigate around Winston and out of the interface room, ignoring the voices behind her as she activates her cloak, just for the comforting dullness of a gray-toned world and the security of being invisible.

Sombra had been able to cloak too… God, everything’s a mess right now.

Her feet are moving fast and aimless, avoiding the sounds of people on instinct, and when her cloak deactivates she finds herself overlooking the ocean, the sun sinking ever lower, the light sharp enough that she has to shield her eyes for a moment to allow them to adjust. Only the sound of distant gulls and the waves lapping at the foot of the cliff far below can be heard… and a sigh. Not from her - her head swings quickly, and she easily catches sight of the man leaning up against the nearest building, the tip of his cigar lighting up his face under the shade cast by his hat. “Lookin’ troubled, Huntress. Ain’t got a monkey on your back now, do you?”

A snort escapes her, but she doesn’t really want to deal with McCree right now, turning back toward the sunset. Instead she settles down cross-legged on the dirt, fingers aimlessly plucking at the sparse grass. The sound of jingling spurs precedes McCree as he moves closer, sitting down in turn but with legs splayed forward rather shamelessly. Plucking his cigar from his mouth, he taps off the ash, then wiggles it at her. “You mind?”

“Actually, I do,” she replies curtly, nose wrinkled under her mask. He blinks, then shrugs and gives it a hard enough flick to send it sailing out over the cliff’s edge.

“That’s gross, McCree. Don’t litter.”

He laughs quietly at that, leaning back on his hands. Huntress in turn hunches forward, as if to make herself as small as possible. For a few minutes it’s quiet again, and she’s almost started to relax when McCree heaves a sigh.

“So what’s crawled under your fancy cloak today, huh?” She glances over at him somewhat sharply but he seems unaffected by it, feet tilting side to side to some inaudible tune he’s humming to himself. What is she even supposed to say? _Some Talon agent tried to blackmail me and then Reaper tried to kill me, but hey I’m alive and Genji brought his brother that also tried to kill me at one point here so everything balances out_ … or something. Ugh. She doesn’t really want to try, so she goes for the second puzzle piece on her mind. “Is Reaper’s real name Gabriel?”

His boots fall still. She decides to press it.

“Did you know him? He used to be… normal?”

“Yeah, he used to be normal, alright,” he exhales, voice unusually quiet. Huntress holds her own breath and dares another glance at him, but his head has tilted down, the brim of his hat hiding his expression. “Back in the day he was part of Overwatch, one of the originals who got the whole thing started. Folks higher up passed him over for Strike Commander, but they gave him Blackwatch instead, the covert ops. He ran a good ship, picked me up along the way. Then things happened, most of it you mighta seen on the news when it happened. Everyone thought he died when the Swiss HQ blew up. We were wrong.”

Silence lingered for a while after he stopped talking, her thoughts doing their usual endless running. What had happened to him? Why was he with Talon now? Too many questions, and it feels like a sensitive subject that she probably shouldn’t broach any further than she’s already dared so far. She switches to something that feels harmless by comparison.

“Where’s Gatita?”

“That troublemaker? Probably catnappin’ right now, or else gettin’ some target practice in. She thinks you’re pretty nice, by the by.”

“... Oh.”

Nice is hardly the kind of word she would self-describe with, and she finally gives an awkward shrug before mumbling, “They’re nice too. I like the cat emojis.”

He laughs again, the serious topic of a few minutes ago seemingly forgotten. “Ought to head out with us again some time, made a pretty good team last time we worked together. That sniper probably would’ve made mincemeat out of us pretty fast otherwise.”

Oh yeah, because she definitely enjoys remembering that mission - shaking her head a little, she stands and stretches, still full of conflicted feelings and worry, Sombra’s face burned into the back of her mind like some tender new brand. It’s a feeling she hates, teeth gritting again, and she’s just starting to walk away when McCree’s voice pipes up one more time. “By the way, Huntress. Where’d you hear that old name from? Color me curious.”

“... Just somewhere.”

A badly handled sidestep, she knows, but her cloak is off cooldown and she feels like misusing it today with yet another activation, hastening off into the darkening base with the sun’s light starting to die out. Harder to see in the dark when the cloak’s working, the shadows almost pitch black while other areas are lit up in ghostly, blinding whites. It’s no surprise that she finally runs into someone, stumbling backwards and nearly landing on her rump. She barely catches herself against a wall though, and looks up to see who she smacked into - oh, right, still invisible, but the cloak shortly deals with that by deactivating.

“Uh - Hanzo. Sorry.”

From a position of tension he’s straightened up, expression going neutral aside from the slight quirk of eyebrows. He’s half-cast in shadow, and it’s such an absurdly dramatic sort of lighting that she can only stare blankly, absently wondering if he’d stopped right there on purpose. “It is fine. You prefer to go undetected on base as well?”

“No, I was, just… getting practice,” she trails into a mumble. This is awkward.

“I see. If you do not mind, I would prefer to rest now-”

Huntress realizes where they are now - the entrance to the wing she had claimed for herself, and with a few stilted motions she slips past him, brushing past uncomfortably close so she can block the way. “This is… I wanted this area. For myself. I like privacy.”

Again, those brows rising. “Genji believed you would not mind if I laid claim to one of the rooms in this wing. My presence is… not welcome with the others.”

There’s an underlying tone to his voice she can’t quite identify. Guilt? Shame? Or maybe some kind of wistful sadness she can’t quite understand, but she wavers in her position at it, eyes lowering to the ground until she finds herself stepping aside to allow him entrance, still feeling awkward at the thought. He’s been haunting her thoughts too much lately; sharing even somewhat close quarters with him seems a terrible idea. And she still doesn’t understand why his being here has caused so much tension, why Genji seems so… off. Why the others would make Hanzo wish to have his quarters far from them. And why he seems so accepting of the thought, for that matter. She doesn’t even realize Hanzo hasn’t gone anywhere until there’s a light touch on her shoulder, just enough to get her attention and draw her eyes back up to that dark-eyed gaze of his, half-hidden in shadow.

“You have gone through much today. It would be wise for you to rest as well.”

Huntress remains silent for a long moment, finally giving a jerky little nod and turning away; she finds herself pausing though, fumbling for words. God, why is she so embarrassing to herself? “... I don’t mind you here. Good night.”

And then she hurries to her room, the door thankfully opening fast enough to let her slide inside with record speed, a choked gurgle in her throat. What the fuck? Now she’s the one who’s a damned cliche. She tears off her mask and throws her cloak off onto the desk, dropping on the bunk and dragging a pillow over her head - a drawn out groan ensues.

What a fucking _weird_ day.


	9. plan of action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well howdy, 20 kudos has made my week honestly. i'll be honest, i'm still super surprised you guys are reading this? but also, comments are good, don't forget, i like to know what parts you guys are enjoying. another note: this fic may be about me relentlessly crushing huntress with feelings for the shimada boys, but if any of you want to i dunno, suggest something else you'd like to see? i'm a flexible writer and i could hook you up.

Her sleep is restless, plagued by coils of shadows winding around her throat, flickers of pink energy erupting from her cloak, and sharp golden eyes staring her down through a scope - it’s an ungodly hour when she jerks awake, covered in sweat and breathing hard, hands grasping for the rifle that isn’t kept in her room. Just a dream… but her eyes are still darting to the shadows of the room, straining for signs of motion. Nothing.

She won’t be getting any further sleep like this, drenched in sweat and trembling like some newborn lamb; she tries to dispel the images by shaking her head and turning on the lights. The room’s starkness is comforting in its way, nothing to cast heavy shadows, though she’s still leery of sliding open the closet door, squinting as the light within flicks on. Still nothing, and she exhales shakily. Clean clothes make her feel a little better, but she still feels damp with perspiration. Maybe a shower will help.

“Your heart rate is abnormally fast, Huntress. Would you like something to calm your nerves?” Athena’s voice is soft, but it still makes her jump a little, quietly cursing herself after.

“No. I’m fine. Did you and Winston come up with anything on that device?”

“Other than isolating it, no. The only solution may be to take it off base and use it, with supervision,” the AI responds, volume slowly creeping back up to normal levels, though the increase makes Huntress wince a little as she moves to the door, which slides open for her. “Maybe. I was thinking of doing that.”

And also thinking of throwing the damn thing off a cliff - she hates the thought of letting Sombra get under her skin, of being _used_. Hands drag down her face slowly as she groans and heads to the showers, bare feet silent on the cold metal floors. The cold is grounding, if unpleasant, and she grimaces to herself as she walks, fingers combing through the tangles in her hair. Maybe it’s time for a haircut, new hair color… colored contacts. Maybe even a change in wardrobe. Anything that might help throw Sombra off as much as possible. She wishes she could disappear again.

A few steps into the bathroom and she blinks, realizing the faint hiss of a showerhead from one of the stalls. Who would - oh. Right. Her cheeks start to burn at the idea, even more so when she remembers she’s maskless.

The water shuts off. Oh no.

Her only respite is to stick her head under one of the sink faucets and set cold water to run; the shock of it is worse than cold floors on bare feet, but she needs the cooldown anyway, the water making her hair cascade down around her face in a dark, messy curtain. Better than nothing, and she waits there, hands grasping the rim of the metal basin with whitened knuckles. This is ridiculous. She feels like an embarrassment.

The sounds of water rushing past her ears nearly drowns out the quiet footsteps, ones that quickly halt. There’s probably a look of dismay on his face at the sight of her, which gives her a strange sort of satisfaction - _you wanted to room in this wing, better get used to it_.

“A visit to the medical bay would do better than that if you are not feeling well,” he finally speaks up, a voice just loud enough to be heard over the water, which she turns off after a moment.

“Not sick. Just needed to cool off.”

Yeah, real smooth there. She can’t help the curiosity though - the barest peek through her sopping wet hair at him just to see… ah yes, a modesty towel around the waist, and another that he’s using on his hair. A shadow of stubble along his cheeks ruins that crisply maintained look of his, and then his gaze seems to catch hers for an instant. She fumbles to turn the water back on, cheeks flooding with color. This is terrible. Stuck here until he decides to leave.

“I am sorry for intruding on your space. I would not have done so if…”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts, turning the water off again, starting to lift her head and banging it into the faucet as she does - fuck, that hurts. Fingers pressing to the now tender spot on her scalp, she bites down on a hiss and withdraws from the sink more carefully this time, head still tilted down as if bowing. She’s just great at making smooth impressions, huh? Anyone else who saw would surely be laughing their ass off at the ever-so-mysterious Huntress caught unmasked and with a soaking wet head. At least Hanzo seems to be a more composed sort of man…

A quiet chuckle, and she freezes, face immediately burning up.

“My brother and I will begin training in an hour. If you are inclined, you may join us.” She’s pretty sure the sun still won’t be up in an hour, turning away with a faint, “Thanks. Maybe.”

And she’s racing back to her room at this point, nearly hitting the doorframe on her way out of the bathroom from the way her head’s tilted. Only when the door of her own room slides shut behind her does she pick her head up, fingers dragging through her hair to try and create some semblance of order - oh, hell, what’s it even matter? She’s not staying awake for training time with the Shimada brothers, invited or not. A low groan escapes as she drops back on the bed, leaving the lights on. Just in case.

Sleep is elusive but it comes eventually, more wisps of ink black still lurking and writhing through disorganized, chaotic dreams. But she sleeps until late morning at least, when a knock at the door rouses her just enough to get her to drag a pillow over her head with a drawn out groan of a response; Athena seems to take that as a cue to open a comm channel.

“Huntress? It’s Winston, I know you don’t really like having visitors but it’s about that device you brought in and I figured it was important enough to-”

“Just a minute.”

She feels terrible and jittery, but she’s changing into her usual outfit as fast as possible, latching her mask on just before Athena opens the door - Winston takes up a surprising amount of space as usual, and she watches him adjust his glasses a little. “So what about it? Did you figure something out?”

“Well I stayed up with it and started running some tests using a decoy safety system, had to run a few hard reboots and system restores to make sure that…”

She clears her throat, arms crossed lightly over her chest.

“That, um - anyway. The point is, I created a bypass in the device that will allow us to monitor the communications that go through it in either direction, passively, so it won’t be easily detected. You’ll be able to contact this Sombra and we’ll know what’s going on!”

The scientist looks proud of himself, and Huntress finds herself smiling just a little. He’s pretty damn capable, given what little time he’d had with the device.

“Then I’ll use it next time I go off-base, and we’ll see what Sombra wants out of me.” Huntress feels a little better, even though her stomach is twisting with anxiety. It’s not an issue she has to deal with alone… huh. Maybe they are a bit of a team, just a little. Her lips twist wryly at the idea, a soft snort escaping when Athena chimes in, “If Sombra’s requests turn out to be too dangerous, we can cut the transmission as well, and short-circuit the device.”

“Alright, alright. We’ll just… see what she wants. I probably won’t do any of it.”

Winston’s pulling the modified device out of a pocket and offering it to her, and she takes it with a nod. “Thank you, for taking this seriously.”

“Why wouldn’t we? It’s a serious matter,” Athena replies. What is there to say to that? She shrugs awkwardly, pocketing the device and gesturing for Winston to move out of her doorway so she can step into the hallway, fingers drawing her hood up over messy hair that she hasn't bothered to brush yet. No longer as comforting a gesture as it used to be, unfortunately.

“Anything else I should know, consider, etcetera?”

“There might be signal delays if you go underground or into certain structures - of course, that’s just theoretical, since we haven’t been able to test it, but everything should be fine! But - just in case. Try not to go underground.” Winston clears his throat and she raises an eyebrow, but she gives a nod of agreement. “Stay outside and above ground, got it. I should go find some food before someone decides they have to-”

There are soft footsteps approaching; it’s Genji, right on time with the dreaded food tray. Guess that saves her a trip, even if she’s expecting another awkward session of trying to ignore the ninja behind her while she eats. Maybe that tray is for himself… she can hope.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” The usual polite tone as he trots up, of course.

“No. Nothing at all. Winston was just about to leave, actually.” The look she sends the scientist makes his mouth click shut, and with another clearing of his throat he bids Genji a good day and moves off - she doesn’t exactly feel like explaining anything right now, glancing aside for the moment. Yeah, she still can’t shake her awkwardness. “I was just leaving, too. You uh - enjoy training with Hanzo this morning?”

He seems to hesitate at the question, but nods, voice strangely subdued. “It reminded me of when we were young, and we would awaken early for our training together. I did not realize I had missed that.”

Good to know someone around here can be nostalgic, but all she can think is that she wants to get out of this wing for a while and not get drawn into yet another round of Genji outlasting her will to not eat anything. Fingers pluck at her hood a little to ensure it’s on properly, but as she starts to move away, turning from Genji, she finds herself facing the other Shimada, holding a tray of food himself - oh. Maybe they’re eating lunch together. Breakfast? Brunch. Either way it seems less like she ought to stick around and more like she ought to give them (and herself) some space. Things are still weird right now, certainly for Hanzo at least, and it’s not her place to be nosy about any of it. Her stomach rumbles, a good cue to leave.

“You slept well this morning?” Hanzo’s being polite. She kind of wants to step on his toes for it.

“Just fine. See you two later.”

And she finally makes her escape, heaving a sigh of relief once she’s out of earshot. Maybe it’s just time to grab some lunch and not think about anything for a while, like how many more times than usual she’s lied in the past 24 hours. Right.


	10. slow break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tracer's gay god bless. feeling like dying but here's the next chapter my dudes.

The next week passes without incidents of any sort - Huntress wonders if maybe Mercy’s pulled her off the roster again, but a quick visit to the doctor nets her only denial, that Talon’s just been lying low. Well, it’s frustrating with little to do, but she can’t exactly complain about bad people not doing bad things; just extra time to work on training, she supposes. She doesn’t doubt some of the others feel a bit cooped up too, if how frequented the training yard is seems to be any indication. Maybe a little too busy for her tastes…

So she borrows one of the training bots and finds searches out another corner of the base that seems near abandoned. No bumping into the others, no modifying tactics… just one on one. Like it kept ending up before.

She sets up the bot to randomize its path and to be hostile, and a 30 second head start timer so it’ll move off first before becoming hostile. There it goes, the faint whir of its propulsion system fading from hearing. Huntress hefts her rifle, then cloaks and heads upstairs, out onto the nearest catwalk. Might as well work on her long-distance shooting for the next time that sniper shows up.

Moving targets are never easy, especially ones that spot her and return fire; to her chagrin she finds herself forced to change nests several times when the bot fires on her position. Well, she does pay it back a few times with some solid hits with training munition, its little holographic health bar ticked down to zero. It’s kind of funny to watch it play dead for a moment, then hop back up with a full health bar and spin in a circle, as if looking to avenge its last life. A couple rounds of this and she feels a little better about being able to snipe if she has to - still, a training bot is no Talon attack dog. The thought of that sniper makes her shiver.

One more round, and she hops down out of her nest to deactivate the bot before it restarts, though as she does the sound of approaching footsteps catches her attention.

“Well now, look who we got here! Howdy, Huntress.”

The jangling of McCree’s spurs is easy to recognize, though she delays acknowledging him until the bot is safely set to neutral - when she straightens up she spots his companion, the familiar helmet scrolling a cheerful greeting. Both Gatita and McCree have lunch trays in hand, and belatedly she realizes what time it must be. Oh wait, bad joke; she has to stifle any amusement that might alert McCree to that particular train of thought.

“Eating lunch out here?”

“Sure are. Care to join us, darlin’?” McCree’s grinning at her, cigar shifted to the corner of his mouth as he does. Her nose wrinkles slightly at the scent of smoke leaking into her mask, a snort trying to clear out the odor as much as possible. Such a nasty habit, honestly.

“I haven’t gotten any food yet, you’d have to wait…”

“We don’t mind waiting,” Gatita pipes up, a cheerful cat emoji on their visor waving a paw at her - she can’t help but smile a little at that, giving a slight nod. “I’ll be right back, then.”

Huntress heads off at a brisk pace; it’s a bit of a walk to get back to the more inhabited areas of the base, and she doesn’t want to waste too much time making the two wait on her - something about being polite, or something like that. Mainly because she actually is hungry, and she’s not in a mood to ignore the rumbling of her stomach right now. A small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it still counts for something to her. Back in more populated and familiar territory, and she lets her feet go on autopilot on the way to the dining hall, thoughts drifting to how her practice had gone. Not bad overall, but there was always room for improvement, shots that could’ve been taken better, less time wasted aiming… she can easily pick herself apart, but her arrival to the hall forestalls that.

Not too much bustle today; neither Winston nor Tracer are there, so she can assume that the former is eating in his usual den of science, and Tracer’s gone home to spend quality time with her girlfriend until the next mission needs her. On one hand it’s cute that Tracer seems to never shut up about Emily (and always with the latest selfie they’ve taken together on hand to show off), but on the other it seeds an ugly little twinge of jealousy in her gut that the woman has some semblance of normality to go back to when she isn’t fighting terrorists.

The old soldier’s in his usual corner at least, seeming to be getting a quiet earful from Dr. Zeigler as he focuses more on repairing the rifle in his hands than the mostly untouched tray of food beside him. No Genji though, or Reinhardt… there’s Hanzo, though. In the corner of the hall, well away from any possible companionship, and well-positioned to watch all of the room’s activities.

That includes her - he’s already watching her, a brief nod given when their gazes meet. Blinking a few times, she returns it awkwardly before heading over to the food. No service here except self-service, mostly unheated foods as well. Some fruit, a sandwich, there isn’t too much on her tray when she starts to head out, pausing only when she glimpses Hanzo again. A strange twinge in her gut again, and though it isn’t exactly pity, it’s enough to divert her course.

“Not eating lunch with Genji…?”

“Not today.” Hanzo shakes his head at her query; she hesitates, then takes a step closer to his table. “You can come eat with… well, it’s me, Gatita, and McCree. I don’t think they would mind.”

Another shake of his head, and the archer gives her a faint smile, more a brief twitch of the lips than anything else. “It is kind of you to offer, but I am almost done. Perhaps next time, if the offer still stands by tomorrow.”

“Ah… sure. Tomorrow, then.”

She bobs her head in a quick nod of acknowledgment before departing, back to the speedy pace of before now that she’s done dawdling. Her thoughts are on another course this time though, a familiar one that recalls a warm, serious gaze from dark eyes and that brief instant of a smile… he always looks troubled when not engaging anyone, though whether that’s his resting expression or something she doesn’t know yet is up for debate. But she can imagine that when he does smile it’s a warming sort of look, and the thought distracts her all the way back to her lunchtime companions, almost forgetting to greet them.

“Someone looks starry-eyed. Who’s the lucky number?”

Huntress snaps out of thought to snort at McCree’s teasing, shaking her head quickly. “Just thinking about practice. Need to work on my aim more.”

“You sure about that? Thought you were gonna walk right into us,” McCree laughs, and Gatita joins him with ‘LMAO’ scrolling across their helmet, to which she rolls her eyes in response and steps past them to find a place to settle down - there’s a view of the sea from one of the catwalks she’d been using, and she heads there with the two ‘comedians’ trailing after her, having a quiet conversation of their own. Once she’s settled down with her tray she watches them for a moment, then turns her back so she can take her mask off to eat.

“Sure do love that little superhero mask a’yours. You sure there’s much point in wearin’ it ‘round home base?”

“You sure there’s much point in wearing _spurs_ everywhere?”

She hears Gatita laugh at that and finds herself smiling a little at her own comeback, and belatedly McCree laughs a little as well, seeming to concede the point as they all turn their attention to eating rather than talking. At least she does, anyway - whether the two are signing at each other as they eat is of no concern to her, though she does wonder if she ought to take a little time to learn some sign language.

Maybe when Talon isn’t busy terrorizing the world and the latest Omnic Crisis subsides. Despite hunger she finds herself pushing around the food on her tray with disinterest - finally, she just sets the tray aside and puts her mask back on, turning to stare at the distant, glittering sea. A pretty enough view, but her gaze is absent, thoughts lingering in more unpleasant places. On Sombra, the device tucked away in her room and Winston’s modifications to it, how uncertain she feels about the whole ordeal… how scared she is that Sombra might be able to dig something up that’ll reveal her for who she really is. What little she’s eaten churns uncomfortably in her stomach now, and she finds herself suddenly rising to her feet, catching McCree and Gatita’s attention. When she looks to them she realizes Gatita’s helmet is off - a soft, rounded face, brown hair with an undercut that’s started growing out just a little, and a slight smile with a wave, their tray already cleaned off and set aside. Huntress blinks a few times, then remembers herself and swallows a little, tongue tip darting over chapped lips beneath the safety of her mask.

“I should get going. Thanks for inviting me to lunch.”

Before either of them can reply she’s away, jumping right off the catwalk and landing with a roll before hurrying away, shaking her head to try and chase away the thoughts plaguing her. Honestly, if she has to sit on her thumbs in this base another day she just might go stir-crazy.


	11. invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy my dudes welcome to the latest chapter where plot isn't a thing and the shimadas are cuties. also how do write zenyatta, im trying... anyway whatever happens in the next chapter happens, buckle up kids.

Hanzo’s been like a ghost after their previous early morning encounter. Maybe he still feels bad for intruding on “her” wing, or maybe it’s just his normal routine in unfamiliar territory, to make himself as unobtrusive as possible. Either way, she kind of appreciates it, but also wonders at the tense attitude of some of the others whenever the archer is present. Even normally chipper Tracer is curiously avoidant of him - when Huntress had first met the woman she’d practically been like a puppy, trailing at her heels and peppering her with endless friendly chatter and inquiries. Obnoxious, even if well-intending, and the absence of similar behavior displayed toward Genji’s brother piques her curiosity. Surely there must be a reason, but no one seems willing to talk, and Hanzo hasn’t exactly been easy to pin down.

But she does find him in the dining hall the next day, this time with his bow sitting on the table before him - the weapon is unstrung and his fingers are sliding along the length of the loose string with some sort of pale substance - oh, wax. She finds herself stepping closer to watch the act of maintenance, hands clasped in front of her while she remains politely silent.

“You do not have much experience with archery, I presume?”

His voice is quiet, but she still finds herself slightly startled by being addressed even as he doesn’t look up from his work, blinking a few times before she responds, “Other than a few childhood attempts, not anything I would actually consider experience.”

A faint huff of amusement from him as he finishes the waxing process, scraping what’s left on his fingers into a small container and tucking that away while assessing the string with a discerning eye. Once he seems to find it to his liking he rises - she takes a step back to give him some space as he goes about restringing his bow and testing the draw, the only noise being the soft grunt of exertion he makes before slowly returning the string to resting position and slinging the bow over his shoulder.

“You wished to eat lunch together? I have not eaten yet,” he offers. Oh, right. That _was_ an offer she had made.

“I - sure. Alright.”

She dips her head in a small nod and hesitates before turning and heading to the food counter, hardly able to tell if Hanzo’s following until she glances back to find he’s only a few steps behind, brows rising slightly. Her head whips forward with faint embarrassment - best to focus on getting some food and not on how strange this feels. What was it, almost three weeks ago that she’d thrown them both out a window? Weird how things have changed.

Once both of them have loaded up trays with food (albeit a rather meager portion on her end), Huntress starts toward the door, not particularly interested in sitting in the hall as usual - too easy for Tracer to show up and start nattering her ear off, or for-

“Huntress! Brother! It’s good to see you both.”

Or for Genji to appear, unsurprisingly followed by Zenyatta, who lifts a hand and shifts it in a circular motion of greeting as the two approach. She halt in her tracks and finds herself offering a quick nod in return, glancing between student and master before her eyes dart to Hanzo, whose face seems utterly calm but for the faintest little curve in his lips - an actual smile from the mysterious Hanzo Shimada? Surely hell must be frozen over now, and she can’t help but compare the moment to their stand-off a little over a week ago… maybe those early morning training sessions have also been moments to talk with his brother about whatever the hell it is she still doesn’t know about. Does she actually even _want_ to know, though? As much as curiosity has been gnawing at her bones, there’s also concern about getting too involved, too attached. It doesn’t hurt to let sleeping dogs work it out for themselves while she minds her own business.

“... eat with you?”

Genji’s been talking and she blinks back to attentiveness, glancing between him and Hanzo for an instant before shrugging as if she had heard the question. Okay, so she’d only heard part of it, but she can extrapolate what he meant.

“If Huntress does not mind, then you are welcome to join us, brother.” Genji’s visored gaze turns her way, and she shrugs again. “Whatever you want. Doesn’t bother me.”

“Yosh! Let me grab some food, then.”

Quick as ever, Genji is off over getting himself a tray - she just has to glance over to watch, grimacing faintly when she notices exactly how much is going on his tray. Somehow she just _knows_ some of that is going to end up on her tray when she glances away for even a moment, and that Genji will give her expectant looks until she eats it. Ugh. Too late to take back the invitation now, though. In less than a minute he’s trotting back over to them, and she turns to head out of the dining hall when he’s close enough.

Such a strange little procession she leads, one with such silent footsteps that if she didn’t know better she would’ve presumed she was walking alone - she needs to master that sort of silence herself, she notes in her mind. Uncreatively, her first choice of where to settle is the same spot she’d eaten with McCree and Gatita yesterday. Catwalks are nice places to hang out, anyway.

When she takes her seat she finds herself with a Shimada on either side: Hanzo to her left with tray set beside him and legs folded under him in that uncomfortable looking way, and Genji to her right with legs dangling carelessly over the edge and his tray on his lap.

Alright, so much for getting to take her mask off.

“You’ve been quite busy lately, Huntress, I haven’t seen you around. Keeping your aim sharp?” Genji’s voice is light, almost playful, and with a quick glance she realizes he’s taking his visor off while Zenyatta lowers to the ground to sit beside the cyborg. The apparently seamless plate over the the lower half of Genji’s face splits in half and recedes to either side, revealing a pair of scarred lips, a crooked nose tip that’s equally etched with lines. Huntress realizes she’s staring the same as last time and redirects her gaze to her meager tray set atop her crossed legs. Were those grapes there before? Definitely not. Oh, right, the question - she shrugs and replies faintly, “Something like that.”

Genji laughs quietly, and there’s silence for a minute while she stares down at her tray and listlessly pushes fruit chunks around with the tip of a finger.

“You are not hungry?”

At Hanzo’s voice she looks up, shaking her head a little. “It’s… no, I just…”

“If you are hungry, then you should eat,” he states. A slight smile is tugging at his lips before he returns his attention to his food, and when she looks down she finds that more fruit has managed to migrate onto her tray. A glance at Genji with narrowed eyes prompts the man to smile, then to start laughing - she almost can’t resist the urge to drag a hand down her face, settling for an aggrieved sigh instead while she reluctantly fingers the latches on her mask. No helping it today, she guesses, and it flops down onto her chest as she picks up some of the fruit and silently eats.

She cleans the food from her tray quickly - even with the extra fruit Genji had snuck on there it still isn’t much, and to avoid any further discreet ‘sharing’ she takes the empty tray up off her lap to let her legs uncross and dangle over the catwalk edge, then tucks it between her thighs and puts her mask back in place.

“Huntress, I was wondering, would you like to join us for training this afternoon?”

Her brows rose slightly as she glanced to Genji, whose healthy appetite seems to have cleared his tray off. “Us being…?”

“Those of us here right now, I mean. My master, Hanzo, and myself.”

“Ah…” She glances down at the tray caught between her legs, tapping it from side to side with her fingers absently as she considers the idea. Maybe? The thought of stepping into a practice ring with either of the brothers actually makes her nervous, knowing full well what they’re capable of. It could be she’s judging her own skills too harshly, but still…

“If it is not too much to ask,” Hanzo pipes up in a polite sort of tone, “I would appreciate the chance for a rematch. You cracked three of my ribs, after all.”

Huntress glances to the archer and finds a wry little smile being directed at her, which startles a soft little huff of laughter from her in response - glancing back down to her hands, she bites her lower lip to get rid of the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I suppose I could. Just for the afternoon.”

“Excellent! I’m excited to test my skills against yours,” Genji smiles before the plates slide back into place over his nose and mouth; he puts his visor on, and is quick to hop to his feet.

Knowing how fast Genji is, she’s not looking forward to it nearly as much, but Huntress dutifully stands in turn with tray in hand, watching Zenyatta with mild interest as the omnic rises back to the usual floating height, like some invisible string prevents the monk from rising any further. Omnic balloon? Okay, that’s just silly. She finds her tray being plucked away by Genji though, who takes his brother’s as well with a cheerful, “I will return these to the dining hall and meet you all at the usual place!”

And then he’s off, streaks of green trailing behind him. Huntress blinks a few times, a glance to Hanzo earning her a slight shrug before he’s moving off as well - alright then. Kicking into a brief trot as to not get left behind, soon she finds Zenyatta alongside her, looking serene as ever. The monk has actually been pretty quiet… maybe just doing the smart thing and observing to see what can be learned. She wonders what sort of conclusions Zenyatta might’ve come to so far, then gives it a second thought and shakes her head. Probably something deeper than she cares to dip her toes into.

“You have been well recently, Huntress?” Zenyatta’s voice lilts pleasantly for an omnic, and she nods slightly. “All things considered, could be worse.”

“I see. You have been looking out for the Bastion unit, yes?”

“In a way. I’m no mechanic though - Torbjörn won’t even look in Bastion’s direction half the time, but Reinhardt’s apprentice lends a hand every now and then when a buffing cloth won’t cut it and Bastion’s self-repair can’t reach.” She smiles for herself a bit; what little she can do is usually enough thanks to the clunky omnic’s built-in repair arm taking care of most of the damage it takes, but there are still times when it needs an engineer’s touch. And she likes Brigitte better than Torbjörn anyway, since maybe she’s a little insulted whenever she catches him side-eyeing Bastion so distrustfully.

“You are much kinder than you let on,” Zenyatta observes, a surprising sort of warmth in his synthetic voice as he continues, “I am glad for company like yours in this world when so many can be cruel without reason.”

“I uh - er. Thanks?”

Thankfully it’s looking like they’ve reached their destination, stepping into what’s definitely a room meant for close quarters training. First into the room, Hanzo moves out of their way while slinging the bow and quiver off his shoulders to lean them up against the wall, then starts taking his shoes off. Huntress watches for a moment, hesitant but eventually reaching up to take off her ever-present cloak. Fingers roll it into a neat bundle, and she places it beside Hanzo’s equipment before taking her boots and socks off as well.

“You must’ve taken a shortcut brother, I’m surprised you all beat me here!” Genji’s voice sounds from the doorway - tracing a mental map in her head of the area, she’s mildly surprised he doesn’t sound out of breath. But then, cyborg body… must be nice.

“I have not sat idly while I have been here, of course.”

Shes glances to Hanzo, who’s offering his brother a raised brow and a dry smile. After a moment Genji laughs and steps into the room proper, coming to a halt beside Zenyatta.

“So, Huntress, would you like to go first against Hanzo, or would you like to watch us spar?”

“... If he wants a rematch, I won’t deny him that,” she replies with brows quirking a little - the expression seems to draw an amused huff from Hanzo, who turns and walks onto the padded area of the floor marked with a distinct white circle that's several yards across. Enough room for a fight to have some motion, yet still small enough to force the combatants to remain in range of each other. This should be interesting.

Huntress takes a deep breath, then follows after him.


	12. sparring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to say i'm stunned by this having as many hits as it has so far is a bit of an understatement, but honestly i can't believe people find this worth the read still. to all my kudo givers, bless your hearts, and to the bookmarkers, i hope i can fulfill your expectations. thanks so much guys. anyway here's huntress getting her ass kicked some more.

Hanzo looks calm as he stands across from her on the padded arena - she doesn’t feel nearly as calm, but still schools what’s visible of her face into a more neutral expression. It’s just a spar, hardly something to stress over, but she already feels tense with Genji and Zenyatta watching. Perhaps they’re wondering how someone so small actually managed to crack Hanzo’s ribs? She hopes she won’t disappoint, as uncertain of herself as she feels right now. Maybe that’s just from having an audience, though. A deep breath to focus herself, and when Hanzo bows to her she returns the gesture, then raises her hands with loosely curled fingers.

“Fight fair you two,” Genji teases from his seat beside Zenyatta.

The fight doesn’t exactly begin explosively, as they both eye each other warily and start to circle; the archer is probably remembering getting flung out a window. Yet Hanzo is ultimately the one to make the first move, closing in with a few steps that lead into a graceful side kick, which lands solidly on her forearm and makes her wince slightly - far from deterred though, Huntress isn’t retreating. As Hanzo flows into his next move, she slips aside evasively and aims low for a kidney shot. It’s blocked with a dropped arm that seeks to twist and grasp at her, but she manages to escape. From there she whirls around with her back to him for an instant, and then she lands an elbow in his gut, driving a grunt from him. Her wrist flicks up to follow the move with a back fist to the solar plexus, but his hand catches her fist before it can hit.

Shit. In a split second she finds herself on her back, winded and staring at the ceiling until Hanzo comes into view.

“You are alright? I did not intend to-” he begins, but the fight isn’t over for _her_ : Since he’s already leaned over it’s easy to reach up and yank him down onto the floor right beside her, where she quickly seeks to catch one of his arms in an arm lock. She seems to have caught him off guard with that, considering how the archer is suddenly pressed to defend himself against her aggression. The bare arm is a better target than the sleeved - no fabric to mess up her hold.

Before she can properly catch him though, he’s back on his feet, and she rises to her own in turn, breathing a little hard but more than ready to keep going. The adrenaline and warm perspiration from fighting him is something she’ll take over the cold sweat of her nightmares any day.

Hanzo’s looking more wary than before, which means she’ll probably struggle to land any more blows. Still, she closes in and tests his defenses with some light jabs, easily knocked aside - he tests her defenses in return, each well-aimed attack forcing her to dance backwards until suddenly he’s pressing a proper offensive now, equally aggressive as she had been just earlier but somehow all the more elegant with his movements, as if it were a dance. It’s mesmerizing in its way; she struggles to focus on the where and how of his blows, the rhythmic tapping of footwork creating a swift beat that harries her as well, up until the point she finds her arm trapped and twisted in his hold. The pressure that verges on pain drives a soft gasp from her, and she hastily reaches up to tap on the nearest part of his arm thrice, at which he releases his hold and steps away.

Huntress straightens up and rubs her shoulder with a slight grimace. Ow.

“That was well-fought!” She looks over to find Genji and his master clapping, the soft metallic ringing of the gesture seeming to fill the room briefly. “You had him on his toes, Huntress, I’m impressed.”

Catching her breath, she can only shrug a little. If she’d been nearly as reckless as their first fight, would it have gone a similar way? Who knows.

“As my brother said, well-fought. I appreciate your willingness for a rematch,” Hanzo says, a faint smile on his face as he bows to her from across the ring. Still catching her breath, she returns the gesture a second time and quickly steps out of the padded area, giving Genji a nod as she does and a murmured, “Your turn.”

“Hah! I will show you how to properly take down my brother, don’t worry.”

The cyborg rises to his feet and claps a hand on her shoulder for a moment, the grin in his voice all too easy to hear as he steps past onto the mats.

“You can _try_ to show her,” Hanzo speaks up with a dry tone, a note of confidence that has Huntress casting her gaze his way with interest - he’s been almost nothing but demure and subdued since coming here, yet now there’s a familiarity in the stance he takes, as if squaring off with his brother is something he’s done countless times. An old routine he finds comfort in, maybe? Either way, it’s a little surprising to see the shift in behavior, and as she sets herself down beside Zenyatta her attention remains focused on the two.

As before, Hanzo bows to his opponent, and Genji does as well before wordlessly, the fight begins. No wary circling here - they dive right at each other with no preamble and blows apparently at full force, though each and every attack also seems to find a block, a counter block, defense turned offense at every chance. The motions are fast, fluid, and hypnotizing to watch; Huntress finds herself leaning forward to follow the spar with keen interest.

“Have you trained in self-defense before, Huntress?”

Oh, that’s Zenyatta speaking. Blinking, she redirects her attention to them for a moment and shrugs. “A bit, yes.”

“You fight very well! Is there any style in particular you studied?” The omnic seems surprisingly interested in her combat education, and she finds herself quietly filling out a few modest details while her eyes continue following the back and forth of the brothers’ fight. Aren’t they getting tired? Well, Hanzo at least - she’s not sure about Genji’s endurance, cyborg enhancements taken into consideration.

Just like that they break off from each other though, seeming a bit winded but otherwise no worse for the wear. Sharing a brief laugh with each other, even - has she ever heard Hanzo laugh before? It’s a nice sound, actually.

“Huntress! Will you spar with me?”

Genji looks as if he has more energy from that bout rather than less, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a child on a sugar high. She's pretty sure she'll regret stepping into the ring with Genji of all people, but after a moment she drags herself to her feet with a faint sigh, still feeling the sting of Hanzo's hold on her arm. Sure, she'll just get her ass kicked by both Shimadas today. Sounds great.

As Hanzo steps out of the ring and she steps in, she finds his hand on her shoulder for a brief moment, and his voice a quiet murmur for her ears only.

“He overextends himself when he thinks he’s winning. Perhaps you can do something about it.”

Well if that isn’t a tip on how to fight Genji she’ll eat her cloak. She gives him a mute little nod before moving forward, and she can hear him chuckling behind her - looking forward to watching Genji get surprised, perhaps.

She settles into the same stance as before, across from Genji rather than his brother this time, and bows when he does. Then it’s hands up in preparation for the first move; she takes the first attack this time, boldly enough (though probably _not_ wise). Nothing too fancy, a mere closing of distance and fists testing whether she can land a blow. Genji is naturally unfazed and blocks with ease, just as easily pushing into an offensive that has all Hanzo’s grace with an added swiftness to it that immediately finds her defenses lagging behind. Yet each time he scores a blow it’s gentle and almost scolding in nature, as if to nag her for allowing him to land it - logically such treatment begins to grate on her a little, teeth gritting as she doggedly works to better follow the speed of his movements and the rhythm of his footwork. It takes a while, but she thinks she’s starting to grasp it… does he seem to be picking up his pace more now?

A blow that he would’ve landed earlier is parried instead, and Huntress has to repress a small surge of triumph, particularly when she hears an approving sort of huff from him. Focus.

Genji’s pace seems to pick up again, almost too fast for her eyes now - she starts to falter, and the blows that slip through her defenses are less forgiving than before, stinging in ways that she can only assume will leave bruises. But she keeps Hanzo’s words in mind; even forced to give ground before the cyborg’s offensive, she waits to find a mistake to capitalize on, a slip that his confidence will forgive but she’ll take advantage of. It’s there in another moment: he’s left himself surprisingly open as he looks to land another hit, and Huntress takes the chance to throw herself into it.

Her fist lands nicely against his side where there’s no armor plating, drawing a surprised grunt from him. She’s already moving onward to the next blow now, a right hook meant to hit the vulnerable softness of his neck, though it turns out to be not as soft as anticipated. Still, the second blow leaves him open to a final move, hands catching onto his arm and hips used as leverage to throw him over her shoulder.

Somehow he _catches_ himself before hitting the mats in a way that’s distinctly mechanical in nature, and before she can release her hold it’s suddenly her turn to get dragged to the floor. In less than a minute of frantic struggling she finds herself pinned, unable to squirm away - no pulling any dirty tricks here with so much metal plating protecting him.

“Alright - get off, you win,” she huffs.

Genji laughs as he rises to his feet, but even with her face scrunching in annoyance she takes the hand he offers to help her up. “Well-fought again, Huntress! That was enjoyable.”

“Yeah, because you _won_. I’ve just been a punching bag today.”

He’s laughing again, and a glance over to where Hanzo’s leaning against the wall shows her a look of amusement on the archer’s face as well. Great, is this going to be the new Shimada pastime, beat up on Huntress? Well… at least it’s practice.

“You weren’t completely a punching bag, now! If you keep training with us I’m sure Hanzo and I will become the punching bags. If you would like to, that is.”

That’s an unexpected offer, all joking aside. Huntress blinks a few times, glancing between the brothers and Zenyatta with a somewhat bewildered expression. It’s not a bad idea, but she still feels a trickle of apprehension - and a rather odd warmth in her chest that she forces herself to ignore. “I... suppose I could, as long as it’s in the afternoon. I’m not an early bird.”

“Yosh! Afternoons it is. I am looking forward it.” Genji’s voice has a grin to it.

Huntress wonders what the hell she just signed up for. Probably a lot more bruises, if the way her body is already aching a bit is any indication. But who knows, maybe it’ll do her some good. _Maybe_.


	13. trouble stirring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright kids we're finally headin to some fun times, sorry for such a slow pace, both writing and in the story. i swear its gonna get fun in the next chapter. i wont say expect sombra shenanigans, but who knows, she's a wild card lol.

With so little Talon activity on the radar lately the peacefulness of the base is putting Huntress on edge, just a bit. Surely there must be _something_ the organization is up to, right? Terrorists don’t take holidays, last she checked. The lack of obligations keeping her on her feet is throwing off her sleep schedule too, making for late lunches and late arrival to training with the Shimada brothers, though neither of them have given her much grief about it other than a few teasing remarks from time to time. Hoping for something useful to keep herself occupied with, she heads to the communication bay just after grabbing a little to eat - a little bit later than usual to training won’t make much difference, anyway. There are voices coming from the bay as she approaches; Winston’s is easy to recognize, as is Tracer’s and Mercy’s… the joy of an international group, she supposes. Accents make everyone easier to tell apart just by listening.

“... don’t know if this is really something we should be concerned about,” Mercy finishes her statement as Huntress peeks into the room. The three are gathered around one of the wall monitors, looking over some kind of file while several pictures scroll along the top. She can’t make out details from where she stands, but she doesn’t exactly want to be intrusive; as she’s turning to leave, there’s suddenly an arm over her shoulders, yanking her back in.

“Huntress! Just the person we need!” Tracer says almost _too_ exuberantly, making her wince as she stumbles under the pilot’s guiding grasp.

Well, now she gets to see the file on display. Something about construction, Japan… and mention of Talon. She’s mostly skimming, not quite sure what the point is, but if it has to do with Talon then maybe she’ll finally be able to get off base for a while. Maybe even do something with Sombra’s device?

“... problem is, it’s in a civilian-heavy commercial area.”

Winston was talking, oops. She blinks a few times, glancing from the file to the scientist until he heaves a sigh and repeats himself. “I said, Talon seems to be building something in Hanamura, Japan. We’re concerned, but the construction is going on next to a mall complex, and there are too many civilians around to take an aggressive approach.”

“Which is why I think you could help out!” Tracer pipes up, grinning. “You got that fancy stealth tech, you could sneak in and out no problem!”

“Ah. I guess…”

Japan is another place she hasn’t been before, and the idea doesn’t sound bad. The idea of going alone though, that makes her nervous.

“I’m not sure this is something she ought to handle alone,” Mercy finally speaks, echoing her thoughts on the matter. “I do not think it requires a full team, but perhaps another agent to accompany her might be best, in case something happens and Huntress runs into trouble.”

She nods her agreement with a look of relief, and Winston puts on a thoughtful look before giving his own nod, now seeming to consider who might be the best choice. Considering it’s in Japan of all places, she can already guess who everyone’s thoughts are settling on. Not an unreasonable idea, exactly - even if neither Shimada is exactly stunning when it comes to subtlety. Though Genji is basically a modern ninja, right? Ignoring the lime green glow function…

Huntress is of half a mind to ask him _why_ he needs to glow.

“Yo! There you are, Huntress. We were worried you were going to sleep through training!” Think of the devil and he shall appear, apparently; her face reddens a little as she turns to look at the approaching brothers, nothing that can be fully hidden by her mask unfortunately. She can only guess Genji’s grinning under his visor as he closes in and pats her shoulder with a laugh, seemingly oblivious to the sudden shift in demeanor of the others. It’s Hanzo causing that, she’s sure, and a glance at him shows a similar hint of discomfort in the way he shifts, though his expression is neutral. As always, she wonders.

“Hanamura? That’s where Hanzo and I grew up. Whatever Talon might be up to there, I doubt it’s good news.” The cyborg’s attention having briefly shifted to the monitor, she discreetly scoots away to give herself some personal space, uncomfortable herself now with so many people around.

“Oh! Genji! We were gonna send Huntress to go take a peek at what they’re up to. Since you know the place, you ought to go with her and make sure nothing goes wrong!”

_Thanks, Tracer_.

“Oh, really? That does not sound like a terrible idea. A more discreet mission than the usual kind?” Genji still has his attention mostly on the monitor, but he sends a glance her way, seeming to consider the idea.

“Dressing like civilians would not be a bad choice - it would make you both less recognizable,” Mercy says. Huntress grimaces at that under the safety of her mask. It’s both the thought of normal clothes and not wearing her mask that are unpalatable - she’s gotten used to the comfort of relative anonymity and of military grade clothing.

“Considering how my brother stands out the way he is right now, it would be a wise decision.”

Oh, so Hanzo is going to do more than just stand there looking uncomfortable, good. Genji laughs again, and his next glance catches her fingering her mask with furrowed brows. He tilts his head, then seems to perk up, a reassuring tone to his voice. “You can wear a surgical mask, Huntress. It’s always been common practice back home if you’re sick or trying to avoid getting sick.”

“Ah… okay.” Well that covers _that_ issue, literally. There really aren’t any other problems she can bring up, assuming she’ll be bringing her cloak along, except - “I didn’t bring any civilian clothes here, though.”

“Don’t worry about it, luv! I’ve got some clothes that’ll fit you just fine,” Tracer grins. Huntress glances at Tracer’s bright leggings with obvious trepidation, prompting a giggle fit from the pilot.

That seems to settle everyone’s minds, and just like that the group starts to disperse, Tracer heading off at her usual high speed and Mercy moving at a comparatively sedate pace, noting over her shoulder that she’ll bring a surgical mask for Huntress to use. Winston’s heading up to the main communication interface, already deep in conversation with Athena, and the brothers are leaving in turn. She’s left standing by herself, fingering the hem of her cloak as she glances over the monitor one last time. Right… this should be interesting. Uncertain for a moment, she finally hastens after Genji and Hanzo. Knowing the time zones and how long a flight it’ll be, they’ll probably be leaving tonight in order to get there sometime around midday, so training is probably still on.

And as it turns out she’s right, since the two are headed right to the usual training room. Good, otherwise she might’ve embarrassed herself following them anywhere else.

“... So is Hanamura nice?”

It’s an awkward sort of question that she tosses without any particular direction, turning her focus to removing her cloak and boots as they arrive. Surprisingly, it’s Hanzo who answers. “It has always been a quiet place, compared to larger cities such as Tokyo. But it is beautiful, and the cherry blossoms in spring are a magnificent sight.”

“A shame it’s the wrong time of year for them. You would enjoy it, Huntress,” Genji adds, already trotting out onto the mats with a worrying bounce in his step; this is probably going to be a more painful training session, isn’t it?

Pushing Hanamura out of mind with a sigh, she pads into the ring and exchanges bows with Genji before the spar begins.


	14. mission start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate chapter title: the fake date mission begins. watch me thoroughly destroy huntress and her composition over time. she'll smile eventually, just you wait. miiiiight serve up some worse things before that happens, but that's not for a while anyway. in the meantime, read the unfolding cuteness.

When she makes it to her quarters that evening she finds a pile of clothes just outside the door - not one outfit, but several, and a note from Tracer recommending she mix and match for whatever look she wants. Huntress is just glad there aren’t any obnoxiously bright leggings included. Bright colors haven’t been her style in a long time.

She takes them in with her and sorts them out, eventually settling on a long-sleeved blouse in dark blue and classic yoga pants. There’s a grey cardigan too, and after a moment of thought she realizes the garment is perfect for concealing her hunting knife if she puts it length-ways against the small of her back. Perfect: now she’ll feel a little less vulnerable without her rifle. With that sorted out and her cloak a neatly rolled bundle tucked into the cardigan’s oversized pocket, she figures she might as well head to the transport bay, even if it’s a little early. Maybe she’s just overeager to finally get off base for a little while.

The bay is empty when she gets there of course; Huntress settles in to wait, leaning against the transport, and doesn’t notice she’s dozed off until a hand is gently tapping her shoulder. On reflex, her knife is out and ready to defend with before she’s even fully roused yet.

“Whoa, it’s okay Huntress! It’s just me.”

Blinking a few times brings her vision into focus on Genji, who’s taken a step back and lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. Whoops. She's mildly chagrined at her response, tucking her blade away quickly before doing a doubletake at Genji’s attire.

It’s certainly not the usual sleek cyborg affair - he has a bright green hoodie and skinny jeans, for starters. That’s… not the sort of clothes she’d been expecting. What had she been thinking he’d wear, anyway? Something more like Hanzo’s usual outfit, maybe, a sort of traditional Japanese look. Somehow, it still seems to work, though she’s left wondering about his visor. Still not very subtle…

“I see Tracer decided to go easy on you and left out the leggings,” Genji teases with a quiet chuckle. As if it were a summons, the speed demon herself is zipping into the bay at top speed like always, skidding to a halt in front of them and saluting. “Cavalry’s here, luvs!”

It’s only two people but Huntress still feels overwhelmed, sluggish from her accidental nap.

“You will be our pilot for this mission, yes?”

“Yep! If you guys run into trouble you can’t handle, just shoot me an SOS and I’ll be there in no time!” Tracer’s energetic demeanor is giving her a headache, as usual. But good to know they’ll have backup if something goes really wrong.

“Oh, almost forgot! Gotcha your mask from the doctor, Huntress. Suppose it’s like me and my goggles, right? Just can’t do without ‘em!”

The pilot tosses the accessory at her, and thankfully her brain is awake enough that she catches it without fumbling; turning away from them briefly, she trades out her regular mask for the surgical one. It feels weird, but the safety of anonymity remains hers; she finds herself fingering the wrinkled surface as she turns back around though, uncertain about the change. A glance down at her regular accessory, clutched awkwardly in her other hand, and she quickly figures she’ll just leave it in the transport when they arrive.

“So, you two ready to get a move on?”

“Considering she fell asleep here, I think Huntress has been ready for a while now!” The cyborg’s teasing has her red in the face as per the norm, even with his hand patting her shoulder to take the edge off.

With a quick shake of her head to the laughter of the two, she pushes away from her resting place and hurries up the ramp that’s just opened to grant entrance into the transport. Right into her usual corner, and it feels a little empty without Bastion’s bulk beside her, though obviously this isn’t the kind of mission the omnic would be useful for. Tracer’s up to the cockpit in no time, and Huntress soon finds Genji sitting himself closer than usual, though with a seat between them to grant her personal space. Well, he’ll have to live with silence from her for most of the ride - she intends to sleep.

And she does. Not very restfully half the time, but enough that it makes up for the sleepless nights of the past week or so, and she actually feels somewhat alive when she finally straightens up in her seat, already glancing over to see Genji’s seat is empty. There’s a quiet murmuring from the front of the transport though, and she rises to go see, stretching along the way.

“-and that was how we first celebrated Emily’s birthday together. She’s never gonna let Winston live it down, I’m sure of it!”

Genji laughs quietly, and as Huntress steps into the closer quarters up front she realizes his visor is off, the lower plates retracted. There’s a difference this time, though: the scars aren’t gone, of course, but the careful application of makeup has rendered them almost invisible. Lips glossed in a rosy pink, brows filled out where the scars otherwise left them sparse, red eyeliner… he’s put a lot of effort into the look, and she can appreciate it. After another moment of staring she also notices the fact his hair is visible for the first time, short and sharp tufts of black where his headwrap would usually cover up..

“What do you think, Huntress? Is red the wrong color for me?”

Caught red-handed - her voice immediately forgets how to function, her face starting to burn at both Genji and Tracer’s expectant looks. Of course, Tracer can’t keep a straight face for long, busting out into laughter that only worsens her embarrassment. Not much better is Genji’s smile and the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Huntress wants to turn invisible right now.

“It… it looks fine. It’s not wrong. Just fine,” she finally mumbles to her boots, considering if maybe she can just get the emergency hatch open and jump out so there won’t be anymore embarrassment…

“I am glad you think so. It has been a long time since I wore any of this…”

His voice sounds wistful now, a sudden contrast to the teasing of moments ago, and when she glances up the cyborg is staring at the flight controls with a blankness that leaves her guessing where his thoughts have run off to now.

“Anyway, we’re almost there, luvs! Cap’n here tellin’ ya to sit down and buckle up!” Huntress rolls her eyes at the mock sternness in Tracer’s voice, but heads back to her seat nonetheless. Genji isn’t far behind, and when he sits down she notices the way his hands fidget with his visor, as if maybe he wants to put it back on. Boy, does she know _that_ feeling. Though, she’d never really thought Genji could feel insecure about anything; he’s always seemed the serene and self-confident sort.

Huh.

Before long she can see the rolling landscape of Hanamura through the window, and as always curiosity has her discreetly craning her neck to see better. The weather looks good for casual clothing at least, only partly cloudy; the idea of having to slog around in rain is unpleasant to say the least. The descent is smooth, and a few minutes later the hatch opens so she and Genji can step out onto solid ground. Rubbing at her neck, left sore from an awkward sleeping position, she glances back to Tracer, who’s already waving them off from the top of the ramp. “Have fun guys, don’t get in too much trouble without me!”

“Rest assured, we will only cause as much trouble as we can handle ourselves,” Genji replies with a mischievous grin that makes Huntress wonder what sort of escapade this might actually end up being.

She shakes her head, looking away as the transport closes up.

Genji takes the lead with a confident stride that speaks of his familiarity with the area, and she settles herself a few steps behind to the left, a slender shadow of sorts that moves swiftly to avoid getting left behind. The streets are winding and narrow, pedestrians many and cars relatively sparse; it’s a smaller sort of city, she supposes, which then makes her wonder why Talon would want its fingers dipped in the pie here. Unique resources, perhaps? Maybe there are people of interest here. Genji hasn’t offered any suggestions as to Talon’s reasons, and she feels weird about asking, as if it might be too nosy. Well, she supposes she’ll have a chance to find out soon enough once she sneaks into the construction site.

“I used to run all over the city with my friends when I was younger. There was much to distract me from my studies and duties… my youth was ill-spent on arcades and other distractions, unfortunately.”

Genji glances back to her with a rueful smile, and the gesture makes her look away with an awkward nod - it must be nostalgic to be in his hometown, but she doesn’t really know what to respond with, other than awkward small talk about her own youth. She’s never been keen on small talk.

The streets are getting busier as they get closer to the mall, and soon she can understand why he was so easily distracted as a kid; she’s distracted right now with the variety of humans and omnics about, not to mention the scents of food, sweet and savory alike making her mouth water and her stomach rumble in complaint. She didn’t exactly have much of a dinner before they left the watchpoint… wait, where did Genji go? She’s been watching a ramen shop serving heaping bowls to customers for the past minute, only just now realizing she’d forgotten to keep pace with him. Shit.

A few moments of panicked glances and she does the smart thing: stay put. A little nerve-wracking knowing Talon isn’t too far away, but she’s not about to risk getting lost right now.

“There you are! I was wondering where I’d lost you.”

It’s a relief to hear his voice after several minutes of standing stock still amidst the city’s bustle, even if the light jostling he gives her is startling enough that she has to fight back the urge to reach for her knife. After taking a deep breath to calm down, she notices what he’s holding. It’s a paper plate with a row of skewered… somethings, dumplings of some kind if she plays the guessing game, draped with a brown glaze. They look delicious, honestly.

“Sorry, I… got distracted,” she admits weakly, unable to pry her gaze away from the food. Genji seems to have already realized where her attention is stuck, grinning as he plucks up one of the skewers and pushes it into her hand. “Try this! It’s sweet, you’ll like it.”

Under the surgical mask she grimaces a little - right in the middle of a busy sidewalk?

But hey, she’s hungry. She hooks a finger under the bottom edge of the mask and lifts just enough so she can bite off a dumpling. Sweet, dense, chewy… the sauce on top adds another layer of sweet, and it takes her less than a minute to devour the rest of the dumplings on the skewer, looking to the plate with undisguised hopefulness. Genji’s caught with a dumpling between his teeth in the midst of pulling it off the skewer; laughing at her expression, the entire plate is pushed into her hands now. Her face reddens a little, but she’s not about to turn it down, taking up another stick as Genji starts walking - right, they have a mission to take care of. She finishes the rest of the dumplings quickly, barring a second skewer that Genji steals for himself with a grin, and tosses the trash in the next bin they pass.

“Feeling focused now?” Genji asks with a hint of amusement in his voice, drawing a faint huff from her as she straightens out her mask and pulls the cardigan closed to feel a little more secure. She does feel better, actually - having some semblance of a meal and proper sleep has her feeling more like a real human being for once.

“Sorry for eating your food.”

Genji pats her shoulder, a gentle smile on his face. “I had intended on sharing, so you do not need to apologize.”

As they round a corner she sees the mall up ahead, a veritable hive of pedestrian activity. It’s a lot of people to have to navigate through, and she’s cringing at the thought when there are fingers twining with hers - wait, what? She blinks a few times and realizes Genji is to blame as usual, though it surprises her that his hand isn’t cold like she might’ve expected it to be. Still, she stares at him with confusion.

“I do not want to leave you behind if you get distracted again! It is quite busy here and you are easy to lose.” The sparkle of amusement in his eye is unmistakable by now, and the smile that threatens to split wide into a grin. A moment longer of staring and she just shakes her head with an exaggerated sigh.

He laughs, and they keep moving, side by side this time.


	15. mission accomplished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternate chapter title: solid snake huntress version plus fun surprises. mmmm boy did i enjoy writing this one.

Passing through the crowds surrounding the mall isn’t as terrible as she expects it to be, though the myriad of distracting sights and sounds do leave her feeling mildly grateful for Genji’s hand keeping her moving in the right direction as she gazes about with interest. Soon they’re past the mall, and up ahead lies their target, a building with an exterior covered by what’s probably the largest tarp she’s ever seen, with scaffolding taking up half the sidewalk in front of it.

Rather than heading straight for it, they turn into a narrow alleyway, stopping where it joins with one that runs behind their destination. Genji releases her hand at this point, and she sloughs the cardigan in favor of the bundle of her cloak, quickly unrolling it and throwing it on with practiced ease.

“Do you want me to go in with you?”

Genji has his hands plucking at his hoodie, but she shakes her head quickly before pulling her hood up, doing a quick once-over to ensure everything’s in working order. “It’s fine, this shouldn’t take long.”

“Alright then. I will come running if I hear gunshots, though.”

He flashes her a brief smile and a thumbs up, which draws a nod of acknowledgement from her before she’s off, cardigan left behind while her cloak swirls around her like the comfort of an old friend - it feels safe to have it on again.

With a quick approach to the tarp-covered building, she keeps a cautious eye out for people while searching along the wall for an entrance, seeing as there’s no obviously visible one. Hands carefully pressing along the tarp's surface, feeling the wall behind it - there’s a slight irregularity her fingers catch on that makes her pause, then duck under the tarp to check. It’s a door that blends into the wall but for the seams that alerted her fingers, yet there’s no visible way to get it open. Hm… she gives it an experimental push that does nothing, then purses her lips in thought. If she were a terrorist organization building a secret overseas branch, how would she lock the place up?

Shuffling her feet in thought, there’s a tinny sort of scraping on the ground, and she looks down while lifting a foot to find a metallic emblem, all too easily recognized with its sharp and menacing design. Looks like someone’s lost their bad guy pass… huh. That’s an idea.

Huntress leans down to snatch up the Talon sigil, holding it carefully while feeling over the door thoroughly. At roughly waist height she finds what she’s hoping for: a faint circular area with another nigh-invisible seam. Though shaking her head at the seemingly storybook method of locking a door, she presses the emblem there, a mild satisfaction in watching it sink in a little while a blue light emitted from the edges seems to scan it thoughtfully. Then with a click and a soft hiss the door itself sinks in a little and slides aside to grant her entrance. Holding onto the medal for now, she steps inside.

It’s dim within the metallic corridors that partly remind her of the Gibraltar watchpoint, save for the unpleasant chill emitted instead of inviting warmth. She moves fast and silent, glancing into mostly empty rooms barren of anything that might hint to their future purpose. The building must’ve only just finished assembly, she guesses, though as she nears the front there are soon locked equipment boxes to be found from time to time. No idea what might be in them, and they’re far too heavy for her to take one with her; all she can do is note their appearance and move on. Ahead, the building finally betrays itself as occupied with light cast out into the hallway from a room and the sounds of occupants shuffling about, accompanied by the quiet murmur of voices in Japanese. A shame she told Genji to wait outside, or else he could translate - as is she quietly presses herself close to the wall and slides along it until reaching the doorway, where she dares a peek and sees two men in suits going over datapads while keeping up a low conversation that seems casual to her ears.

There’s two options: continue a sweep of the building in hopes of finding more, or wait for an opportunity here to steal from under their noses. Of course, it could well be a long wait time before either of the men moves, and she doesn’t want to linger too long in case some security measure of the building finally recognizes her for an intruder, but she’s curious, too…

Her mind is made up for her when she hears the sound of someone getting to their feet and stretching with a groan - she doesn’t dare glance again, but the words exchanged now seem to indicate one of them is leaving. Footsteps drawing near, she waits until the last possible moment before going invisible.

The instant the man passes into the hallway she slips into the room, eyes darting about - she doesn’t have much time at all to decide what to take, and there’s the risk of the remaining man noticing her actions, though it seems he’s intent on the datapad in his hand. Luck is on her side for once though, as the other has left behind his datapad, and she makes a beeline for it as fast and silent as possible. No hesitating here, just fingers delicately lifting it off the table and close to her, where the cloaking effect will slip over it, and then she hastens back out before her cloak deactivates.

Back out in the gloom of the hallway she hurries back the way she came, datapad clutched to her chest with one hand and Talon insignia held tight in the other. Once her cloak deactivates she lets out the breath she was holding, glancing back over her shoulder. No sign of the other man returning, so just maybe she pulled that off cleanly…

She rounds a corner and runs face first into someone - a security guard it seems. _Shit_.

As he’s piping up with an alarmed voice she’s already ducking past him, evading the hand that reaches for her and breaking into a sprint. A shout echoes after her and the pounding of her footsteps fills the corridor - and then the klaxon clattering begins. Classic, really. The hallways are flooded with bright light that does its best to blind her, but she runs onward. A few more yards to her exit now; she skids to a halt at the door and fumbles with the emblem, cursing softly at the sound of running steps growing close. Precious seconds are eaten away by the door mechanism, and when it finally starts to open she squeezes out before it’s even halfway there. Just in time, too: the bark of a pistol sounds out from behind, the sharp _ping_ of a bullet ricocheting off metal alarmingly close.

The cooldown of her cloak is over by now and she goes invisible while racing back down the alley, nearly running into someone again - Genji this time with the discarded cardigan in hand and worry clear on his face. Guess he heard that gunshot.

She doesn’t want to waste what invisibility she has right now, darting past him with a sharply barked, “Mission accomplished, we’re leaving!”

“Huntress? Wait-!”

Nope, she’s not waiting around to get shot at. Impatiently she reverses just enough to grab at his arm and yank him along, dropping the Talon insignia in the process. Not like she needs it for anything else, anyway. The cyborg stumbles but recovers admirably and turns himself to run at her behest, though when they turn a corner and her cloak switches off he halts them for the moment, twisting to listen for pursuers. There’s shouting and footsteps, far enough back that Huntress takes a hurried moment to switch out cloak for cardigan, though the exchange leaves her feeling vulnerable.

“Bet we can lead them through a nice little chase in the alleys here,” she starts, but Genji’s grabbing her hand and tugging her along already, not through the next alleyway turn but out onto the streets. “Genji, what are you-?!”

“We will lose them in the crowds, Huntress. It will be safer that way,” he responds confidently.

She doesn’t feel so assured about the thought, but there’s no changing course now, hurrying towards the mall as they are. The datapad is tucked securely under her free arm, Genji’s grasp gentle but too firm to slip away from so easily. As they drift into the crowds and slow their pace she has to fight the urge to try and escape, unease surging through her veins - it feels too busy and open, instincts crying that there’s no way they’ll _actually_ blend in like this. It’s absurd!

Genji has keener eyes than her right now it seems, drawing her this way and that with all the self-assurance in the world, until suddenly he’s steering her to sit on a bench and settling himself beside her, arm draped over her shoulders in a manner that keeps her from getting back on her feet.

“Genji! What are we doing?!” she hisses, muscles tensed with the need to flee.

“Calm down. They aren’t going to find us.” He’s all smiles even as he glances over the crowds; she’s looking too, and panic floods her when she recognizes the security guard of mere minutes ago.

“They’re _right_ there, we need to move-!”

Another surprise for the day: his finger hooks over the top edge of her surgical mask and draws it down, and then he leans in to kiss her. She stiffens with shock, the move leaving her frozen with eyes open. It’s a chaste affair that seems to last forever, his lips soft and careful until he draws away and returns her mask to where it belongs.

Their pursuers seem to have moved on at least, though now she’s left speechless with what’s probably the dumbest look of astonishment on her face; Genji’s still smiling, gaze scanning over the people around them (apparently ignoring the scandalized looking old couple watching them) until he appears satisfied and draws her to her feet, holding onto her hand once more as they begin what seems a far too leisurely walk in the direction of their transport. After a minute or so he speaks up, “I hope I did not offend you with that. Many people here are still very traditional and try to avoid looking at public affection. They consider it inappropriate.”

“... Not offended,” she manages a rather faint reply. To be frank, she’s not even sure what to think of it right now. As it is she just holds tight to the datapad and lets Genji do the leading, shaking off the dazed sensation to keep a look out for the enemy.

But they’re in the clear the rest of the way to the transport it seems. Tracer has the ramp down for them already, bouncing on her heels on the sidewalk and impatiently zipping over to them.

“What'd ya manage to get your hands on, Huntress? Other than Genji, of course!”

At Tracer’s giggling she realizes her hand is still clasped with his - her face reddens with embarrassment as she snatches it away and holds up the datapad for Tracer to see. “Managed to steal this. Hopefully there’s something useful on it that was worth the hassle of getting shot at.”

“Mint! Took a quick nap while you two were on your date, so I’m ready to head back when you are!”

Seriously, isn’t Genji going to speak up and call off Tracer’s endless teasing? So far the man’s just standing there with hands tucked in the pouch of his hoodie, clearly paying attention but otherwise just smiling a little - he finds this too funny, doesn’t he? Her face can only get so red, and amidst Tracer’s boisterous laughter she hurries on into the transport and drops into her seat a bit harder than necessary, trading out the surgical mask for her real accessory.

Mission accomplished, and she’s ready to get the hell out of here so she can get away from Tracer for at least a month. Maybe longer. God, what an embarrassment.


	16. insert something meaningful here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooo sorry this took like a month to get on, was looking for the plot. still havent found it yet, but in the meantime have some interactions. warning for mention and brief inclusion of alcohol.

Another eight hour flight sees them back to Gibraltar, though the disconcerting leap back through time zones has them arriving at roughly late afternoon. This time around Huntress didn’t get much sleep on the transport; combined with jetlag and the events of the latest mission, and all she wants to do is curl up somewhere and sleep for a decade or five.

Dutifully though she trudges to the communication bay, albeit several yards behind the somehow still chipper Tracer. Genji parted ways with them at the transport bay, unsurprising considering how little he would have to say about the mission anyway. Probably as much teasing slipped in between facts as possible, so it’s just as well he’s gone off in her opinion. Despite her tiredness, it is mildly gratifying to be responded to so amicably when they reach Winston’s preferred hangout and she hands over the datapad to him; the scientist seems inordinately pleased with such a small find, his gratitude clear in words and body language. Doesn’t feel half bad to be appreciated.

“It should take just a few hours to crack the security on this, we should be able to find out their plans for Hanamura quickly!” Winston’s already getting that look of immersion on his face even though he’s yet to get anything done on it, but Huntress takes that as her cue to start edging out.

“Well, hopefully there’s something good in there.” Otherwise she’s gonna be pissed. All that effort and nothing worth anything? Anyone would rightfully be frustrated.

“I’m sure there’s _something_ worth a pretty penny in there, chin up!” Tracer urges.

Huntress only offers a shrug, but as soon as neither of them are looking at her she takes her leave, looking up at a sky that’s starting to gather an uncomfortable number of grey clouds. Probably going to rain soon, and she has no intention of getting caught outside in it, giving her hood a slight tug as she hurries on her way to her quarters - not her wing solely anymore, she still laments the thought a little. Hanzo is a decent neighbor at least, so it’s not utterly intolerable. And he isn’t an eyesore, for that matter.

Before her thoughts can go trending in less appropriate directions (not that she wouldn’t have reined them in, but still), the next turn she takes finds her almost running into a familiar omnic, belatedly taking a few steps back to avoid a crash.

“Peace be upon you, Huntress. Your mission with my student was a success?”

As Zenyatta moves a hand in a circular wave she blinks a few times. Genji must've told his master about the assignment before they left, which is hardly surprising. After an awkward throat clearing she nods and replies, “Something like that. Not sure yet if what we brought back was any good.”

“I do not doubt that you have done well, no matter how small the achievement. Would you care to walk with me for a minute, perhaps?”

It's tempting to make a sardonic remark about being the only one actually walking, but she bites it down and shrugs, falling in beside the omnic as their path turns and heads off in an unfamiliar direction. For a few minutes she discreetly fidgets with her cloak, counting steps and turns but without real intent to memorize when the exercise is more about trying not to feel whatever attention Zenyatta is focusing on her. Funny, how they can seem so unburdened and yet so discerning. Must be a Shambali thing. She keeps trying to find an appropriate moment to ask about pronouns, but the thought falls by the wayside when Zenyatta finally speaks.

“I have sensed within you a great deal of pain and sadness. There is a sense of purpose you believe yourself lacking, is there not? The reason you strive to prove yourself to our companions.”

Huntress lurches as she misses a step, only catching herself by reflex. _What_ now? Her mask hides the slight gape of her mouth, but there's no disguising the flickering motions her eyes go through - widening, narrowing, looking away to avoid what passes for eye contact. The nearby munitions building looks _very_ interesting suddenly.

“I do not mean to expose weakness without cause, my friend. I have only ever wished to help others find peace and healing from within,” Zenyatta continues, as if it were perfectly natural to talk about this. She feels like screaming, though whether it's from embarrassment or mild terror she's not too sure yet. Maybe both.

… Oh, is she expected to answer now? Fuck.

“I… think you're mistaken. About a lot. I'm fine,” she fumbles, lagging behind and shaking her head quickly before she falls back on cowardice and makes her escape at a rather fast walk in the opposite direction. She doesn’t expect them to follow her, not with the slower pace the omnic always sets, but a glance back finds them facing her; her shoulders hunch defensively in response and she picks up her pace, turning a corner to escape scrutiny as soon as possible.

Was that Genji’s fault? She’s going to blame Genji for the surprise psychoanalysis. Or maybe Zenyatta did the same to him once, too? Who knows? Certainly not her, and she’s not about to go prying right now. No, she’s heading straight for the safety of her quarters and maybe to find a hint of comfort in the bottle under her bed, though from the mention of Genji her thoughts have already slid back in time to the so recently completed mission, to the unorthodox method of hiding in plain sight. The confidence, the boldness, and yet the casual kindness and sincere apology. It’s too much for her to make heads or tails of his actions, just as inscrutable as his brother and twice as frustrating. The best conclusion to come to right now is that there are much more important things to focus on now, like sleeping, then maybe sucking it up and biting down on Sombra’s offer just to see what happens. Whatever the mystery woman has in mind is _probably_ less painful than people trying to inflict counseling on her.

Her quarters are reached without further incident - and the brief conversation with Zenyatta is pushed as far out of mind as possible with a dose of alcohol. It’s a nightcap that, while not enough to cause the kind of hangover she had last time, certainly does bring on drowsiness before long, though she remembers to strip out of the borrowed clothes before crashing.

What it doesn’t provide is an escape from the nightmares. Unsurprisingly she finds herself jerking awake sometime in the night, heart racing and cold sweat lining her brow. It’s the same routine: lights on, cautious glances cast about for shadowy figures, the closet treated with apprehension until fears have been eased by bright lights and safety. She tries to remind herself that buried under all the black clothing and hidden behind the mask is a man. _His name is… or was, Gabriel_.

There’s still shadows lurking in her mind though, and she throws on simple nightclothes with a shiver.

And on second thought, her mask as well before she goes padding off to the showers. No Hanzo hanging out there this time, and she takes her time with a hot shower, mostly standing under the spray while tired static seems to fill her head. Can’t she just have some peaceful sleep for once?

When her skin feels utterly numb to the water she finally cleans up properly and gets out, shaking the feeling of brainlessness away as best she can while drying off, redressing, and starting back to her room.

Since Athena’s been quiet this time she isn’t expecting an interruption to her tiny journey, but one happens nonetheless: a door slides open quietly as she passes by, and despite herself she whirls with a speed that’s anything but relaxed. All she finds is a tired looking Hanzo though, his hair freed of its usual confinement and just barely reaching his shoulders. He’s more modestly clothed for once with a simple blue yukata that covers both shoulders, but she’s too tired to be amused. For a moment she wonders if his sleep is as restless as hers has been lately - there are faint bags under his eyes, a slight slump to his posture that disappears almost as quickly as she notices it.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Huntress snorts softly, as if she hadn’t panicked at his entrance just moments ago (her heart is still pounding, but he doesn’t need to know that). “Is that the pot asking the kettle?”

That seems to draw a bit of liveliness into him by way of a brief little laugh, shaking his head as a hand rubs over a stubbly cheek. His gaze shifts downwards, as if self-conscious about the fact. “Perhaps. I was considering making some tea, if you are interested…”

She feels mild suspicion at being in for another unexpected counseling session - but then, Hanzo has his own fair share of unknown issues to work on, so perhaps not. Other than a noted flair for being melodramatic occasionally he seems just as withdrawn as her most of the time, though less so when Genji is around, she thinks. Finally she gives a slight nod, and after a moment spared to close his yukata a bit tighter he steps aside to allow her access; she can’t help but peer with a bit of caution before she steps in, as the room is only dimly lit by a false candle atop a low table in the middle of the room. The amber glow and the space taken by the table makes the room feel small, though it has to be the same size as hers. The room is neat and clean, save for the rumpled bed. She guesses that he must’ve been tossing and turning there just a minute ago.

“Genji was kind enough to lend me his table for the time being,” Hanzo offers quietly as she finally steps inside, mincing footsteps that must seem absurdly timid to him. Another tiny nod of acknowledgement from her as she gingerly seats herself at the table, feeling smaller than usual as she sits there, cross-legged on the cool metal floor. “I am afraid I do not have a cushion to offer you right now, unfortunately.”

“It’s fine. Whatever tea you want to make is fine, too.” The soft and warm light leaves the room feeling… less sterile and cold than it might’ve been otherwise, almost safe in a way - the shadows are sepia, not the sharp and wispy darkness that reminds her of Reaper. It makes her keep her voice to a quiet murmur, barely loud enough to reach him. His turn to nod, and she watches silently as he goes about getting out a few supplies: a dull green ceramic teapot with matching cups, a pouch from which he empties out tea leaves into the pot, and an electric kettle that he disappears from the room with for a minute to fill with water.

When he returns she’s shifted to hug her knees to her chest gently, chin resting on them and eyes closed.

“Huntress?”

“I’m awake.” She doesn’t open her eyes to watch, but merely listens to his almost silent footsteps, the soft tap as he sets the kettle down, the hum of the heating element and the slow hiss of steam escaping out the spout. He turns it off just before the noise becomes too loud and annoying, and the trickling of water tells her he’s pouring from kettle to teapot. Somehow the silence is soothing rather than awkward or unnerving; they’re both tired, more in favor of focusing on the tea-making process than being chatty.

The next trickling sound lets her know the tea is ready, and she pushes her legs back down to crossing with a sigh, fingers absently combing through her damp hair before she opens her eyes and takes the cup offered to her with yet another nod. The steam drifting from the tea is warm and fragrant, another soothing element.

“Green tea, with jasmine. I find it comforting.”

Wait - her mask. She freezes and glances to him, hands wrapped around his cup, eyes shut as the amber light falls over his face and seems to blur away the shadows and sharpness until all that’s left looks like mere tranquility, rather than a more unpleasant lack of sleep. She finds herself staring, gaze tracing over high cheekbones and bold eyebrows, the squared jawline lined with stubble and the strong, handsome shape of his nose. Most importantly, he’s showing no signs of opening his eyes any time soon, so she finally uses a hand to get her mask out of the way, blowing the steam away from her cup before taking a sip. “It’s good. Thank you for sharing.”

Hanzo dips his head with a low hum, and silence rests over them again like a soft blanket. In between sips and glances at him to ensure his eyes remain closed, she slouches over the table with forearms acting as an impromptu pillow. The intervals lengthen as her cup grows lighter, until there’s a point when her head is simply too heavy to lift anymore. It’s the same story with her eyelids, and her thoughts.

Sleep sounds good.


	17. well rested

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me, not making yall wait another month for another chapter, how about that. occasionally i look at the number of hits ive managed to garner and feel stunned all over again, so i mean. thanks a metric fuckton for reading this absolute mess of a story, i hope you're enjoying the ride. next chapter: huntress gets beat on some more, maybe some rising interpersonal tension. i'd put a lenny face here but im tired so on with the chapter.

Huntress awakens with a terrible crick in her neck and a blanket draped over her shoulders. Actually, her whole body is stiff as a board from falling asleep slumped over the low table, and it’s with no small amount of wincing that she clambers to her feet. At least she was able to sleep undisturbed, instead of being plagued by more of the same nightmares.

"Athena, time please...?"

"Ten minutes to noon. There's food available in the dining hall currently if you are interested in eating."

A quick glance around shows Hanzo isn’t here, his bed made up neatly and tea supplies tucked away. Probably out eating lunch right now… a gentle shake of her head chases away the last of her drowsiness, and she folds up the blanket to place at the foot of the bed before leaving for her own quarters - with her mask on her face where it should be, of course. A brief and quiet moment spent changing back into her usual gear, cloak draped over her shoulders once more, and she steps back out with Tracer’s borrowed clothing, all of it, tucked under her arm to return to the Brit whenever their paths cross next. With any luck, she’ll be hanging out around Winston, as the communication bay is her first stop today.

It’s only the scientist there when she arrives though, busy with something up in the main interface room as she cranes her neck to look and listen. Bothering him isn’t on her agenda at the moment, though when she considers the friendship between him and Tracer, she ends up leaving the pilot’s clothes there.

Next stop is the dining hall; for once she’s feeling hungry, and she makes a beeline for the food with such single-minded focus that she doesn’t even notice anyone in the room until after piling her tray.

After she looks up though - there’s Mercy, as well as Reinhardt and Torbjörn, the older men bantering. Or maybe bickering? Hard to tell the difference with the engineer’s consistently grumpy expression, and Reinhardt’s equally constant exuberance. Of the three, the doctor is first to notice her trying to discreetly edge along, brows rising before a smile takes over her face, fork waved in acknowledgement of her presence. Since Mercy doesn’t seem to be trying to make her stay she nods a little and keeps going, except then Reinhardt takes notice.

“Ah, Huntress, my young friend, I have not seen you around in some time. Sneaking around wearing that cloak is a terrible habit!”

“I’m not invisible most of the time,” she protests faintly.

“Come, sit with us! I would like to hear about your latest mission!” With the German beckoning her closer she really has no choice but to shuffle over, awkward as can be as she settles into the spot he’s made available beside him. Mercy offers her a sympathetic smile from across the table, but all the same seems uninterested in offering her an escape route just yet.

Then again, knowing the doctor, the escape route might end up being an unpleasant check-up, and Huntress is zero percent interested in having one of those right now. What Mercy offers instead is an easy way to begin talking.

“So, you and Genji were undercover in Japan?”

She nods with a quick glance of relief spared for the other woman, directing her gaze upwards briefly to see Reinhardt’s look of interest. He’s such a bulky figure that it makes her feel tiny to sit beside him, an uncomfortable sensation. “That’s correct. Winston, Tracer, and Athena wanted us to investigate Talon’s investments there without causing a ruckus. It was… it wasn't very exciting, honestly. Except for getting shot at and chased, I guess.”

That has Reinhardt’s interest, of course, and he’s surprisingly skilled at drawing the story from her, however halting and quiet the telling of it is. Torbjörn seems keen when she mentions the door mechanism, leading the conversation off on a tangent that ends in disappointment as she admits to having lost the emblem.

“Don’t feel bad, Huntress, I’m sure there will be other opportunities like that in the future,” Mercy insists.

“None as good as that one was!” Torbjörn retorts, prosthetic rapped on the table sharply for emphasis. “If I could’ve gotten a look at that little scrap, we’d have the keys to Talon’s headquarters on a silver platter by now!”

“Sorry,” she mumbles, gaze firmly focused on her food. At least she still has her appetite, a good enough reason to stuff food in her mouth so she doesn’t have to keep talking. But Reinhardt’s dropping a hand on her shoulder to give a hefty pat, and she almost chokes because of it.

“Mistakes happen, my Swedish friend! This way we shall have much more glory in breaking down the front doors, and no sneaking through the back like timid mice!”

That sets off a whole new argument, giving her the opportunity to eat while the two men go back and forth with their seemingly incompatible approaches. Sometimes she’s not actually sure if they’re friends, despite Reinhardt’s use of the word, yet they somehow wind the debate down with a more amicable note, and attention turns back to her. Mercy comes through with another leading question, and she manages to get through most of the tale in a matter-of-fact manner, at least until the point where they had blended into the crowds to make their escape. Then she trails off, staring at her tray but only seeing the far too vivid memory of Genji kissing her. His lips had been soft, marked by scars but not at all unpleasant, and his lip gloss had lingered afterwards, sweet tasting…

After a moment, she glances up and realizes the rest of the table is waiting for her to continue.

“A-and from there, we lost them, and returned to the transport,” she finishes hastily, ducking her head. “There’s nothing else to tell after that. Winston is still cracking the datapad right now, I think.”

“The contents of the datapad are currently undergoing translation from Japanese.” Athena’s voice is an unexpected addition to the conversation for her, prompting a quick glance to the originating port on the nearest wall. Well, that’s good to hear at least.

“Does it seem like it’s important so far?” If not, Huntress is going to fly herself back to Japan to try again.

“There are mentions of shipments and trade agreements with local entities. The contents of the datapad will be fully translated within the next three hours, and you may view them for yourself in the communication bay when translation is complete. Would you like notification of when the process is complete?”

“Yes, please. Thanks, Athena,” she replies quickly. While Mercy, Reinhardt, and Torbjörn are exchanging looks with each other she sets herself to finishing the rest of her food, their quiet discussion going in one ear and out the other. Three hours just can’t pass by fast enough, can they? As soon as her tray is cleared off she rises, quietly thanking them for the company and taking her tray to the used pile before heading out of the dining hall with speed in her step. How’s she supposed to pass three hours without having her mind constantly on the thought? There’s always training, she supposes. The Shimada brothers are probably just now starting their afternoon sparring, unless they haven’t finished lunch yet. Either way, if her thoughts are on practice, then they won’t be on the datapad. Huntress sets her course accordingly.

The usual training room as preferred by the brothers is empty at the moment - she can have it to herself to limber up with stretches, then. Boots and cloak put aside, there’s little ado before putting her muscles through a slow warm-up, a frown of concentration stealing over her face as she focuses on the sting of stretching just a little further than her body likes, especially with the ache of a bad sleeping position still lingering. There’s always something reassuring about being able to touch her toes for some reason…

“I see you have beaten us here today! Slept well after the mission, I hope?”

She straightens up to watch Genji, Hanzo - and Zenyatta, the trio filing into the room, led by Genji’s friendly inquiry. Guess that means Hanzo hasn’t talked about… whatever someone might call their late night interactions. Weird is what she calls them.

“Well enough, I guess,” she shrugs, stretching her arms back. “I’m ready to go if you guys are.”

“If it is not too much to ask, I wish to spar with my student first.” She glances to the omnic as they speak, as bland a look as she can muster even while cringing internally with remembrance of yesterday evening’s awkward and brief conversation. Meanwhile Genji is already perking up, practically bouncing with energy. “I would enjoy that, Master! Huntress, it has been some time since he and I have sparred. Would it bother you if we went first?”

“Go ahead. It’s fine.” Thank god, _pronouns_. With a nod to the two she steps off the mats while they move on, and from there she settles herself against the wall where Hanzo has placed himself, far enough to maintain personal space yet close enough to converse if desired, though she’s not quite sure where she wants to start. Maybe just… hell, she’s terrible at casual conversation.

Genji and Zenyatta bow to each other, and their fight begins. Fast - she notes that while the omnic blocks and parries with his arms, all his offensive moves are with his legs, pant legs billowing dramatically with every kick.

“I hope you are not too sore from sleeping the way you did,” Hanzo speaks quietly, drawing her gaze for a moment before she shakes her head slightly.

“Not the worst way I’ve ever slept. Better than not sleeping at all. Thanks for the blanket.”

“It was nothing. I was… glad for the company.” He seems contemplative for the moment, then hastens to add, “However, I should have walked you back to your quarters. A table is a terrible place to sleep.”

Huntress shrugs slightly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Back to silence, listening to the ringing of metal against metal whenever Genji or Zenyatta block an attack from the other, the speedy trading of blows and evasion of them a steady dance. The footwork holds a different rhythm than the pace the two brothers set when they fight - this one doesn’t have the exuberance of siblings testing one another, but rather feels more like affable banter between teacher and pupil, repetition of moves to check for mastery. Moments where little lessons are taught in the light tap of landed blows are almost nonexistent, but it seems even Genji can mess up from time to time. He appears to take those rare hits in good humor though, even laughing softly whenever a repeat occurs and he executes his defense properly this time. She almost forgets everything, watching the fluid grace of the fight.

They finally break apart with shared and quiet laughter, Genji actually sounding somewhat breathless but clearly having enjoyed the bout; omnics are nothing if not difficult to read thanks to a lack of body language, but she guesses Zenyatta had fun too. How much charge does he carry, though? She’s never seen him do so much at once, it might be time for him to take a recharge break…

“Huntress, I was wondering if would you do me the honor of a spar?”

Or not. After glancing between the three, she shrugs and rises to her feet, stretching her arms on her way onto the mats while Genji steps off. No helpful hints this time, apparently. Once she’s in place, the bows are exchanged, and the match begins.

She hopes this bout doesn’t leave her too bruised - metal isn’t _nearly_ so forgiving as flesh.


	18. curiosity deepens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the heck is this having a new chapter so soon?? it's me actually having a clue on where to take the story, i guess. at least for now anyway, goodness only knows where we're going after this. route 66 or dorado, maybe.

Despite his gentle demeanor, Zenyatta doesn't fight nearly as defensively as Huntress had hoped. He’s fast, and tests her defenses with the ease of any skilled fighter. Yet it’s not the same as her first spar with Genji, the learning curve not so steep and the opportunities to understand his moves much clearer - the omnic is used to being a teacher, quite obviously. It’s actually a good starting pace to work all the aches out of her still sore body, and when she feels as little less like a cardboard cutout of herself she steps up her pace to take a more offensive role. Zenyatta adjusts effortlessly, then challenges her defenses faster, with new and unfamiliar angles. So many variations on kicks and parries it could make her head spin, save for the repetition of each move that gives her a chance to figure out how to best block or dodge, or even use it against an opponent, though she’s too cautious to actually do that against Zenyatta.

Finally she disengages to catch her breath and holds up a hand, a cue for him that she’s out of stamina, and thankfully he ceases his offense without delay.

Tougher than his slender frame looks, huh? Remind her to never challenge him outside the training room.

“As I have said before, you fight well! You are a quick learner.” Zenyatta spreads his hands as he speaks, and despite the lack of a moving mouth she can easily sense the warm smile of approval he might’ve given otherwise. “If you are interested, I would be more than happy to share what skills I know with you.”

That receives a long pause even after she’s recovered, straightening up and keeping her gaze away before finally giving a mute shrug - maybe. She’s justifiably wary after being ambushed with that psychoanalysis, quite sure that the only reason he hasn’t tried again yet is due to the presence of the Shimada brothers. Accepting an offer of further training would probably lead to one on one sessions, which would in turn undoubtedly lead to the monk ever so kindly picking her apart. _Yeah, no thanks_. “Maybe some other time.”

She catches Zenyatta nodding out of the corner of her eye as he floats his way off the mats and over to where Hanzo’s sitting, while Genji is - wait, where is he?

A tap on her shoulder startles her, and the cyborg laughs as he darts around her to take a position across from her. Haha, very funny. Huntress rolls her eyes, but since he looks eager to get started, she doesn’t waste her breath on snarky remarks and simply readies herself, bows exchanged and a new match started with very little ado. It’s more of the usual, but she has felt the slow increments of improvement over the series of spars she’s fought against the brothers so far, even if she wishes it were a faster sort. Better than no improvement at all though; she’ll take what she can get.

Once the match wraps up it’s Hanzo’s turn to face Genji, and then after that her turn to face Hanzo - the time melts away under the intensity of trading blows and testing defenses, going through motions slowly at request when a move is unfamiliar to someone. She’s actually caught off-guard when Athena speaks up.

“Huntress, the translation is complete.”

In the middle of Hanzo’s demonstration of a unique arm lock she immediately perks up, slipping out of his grasp. “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute or two.”

“Translation? The datapad you brought back, then?” Genji asks, and she nods on her way over to her boots, pulling them on quickly and throwing her cloak over her shoulders. She’s sweaty and in need of a shower, but the need to know what she recovered outweighs the need to clean up, and with only a handwave to the trio she’s off, barely restraining her excitement to a power walk.

Inside the communication bay it seems she’s not the only one interested - Tracer’s borrowed clothes have vanished from where she left them, and the pilot’s voice is audible from the main interface room, where Huntress hastens to. The main screen is slowly scrolling through plain text while Winston and Tracer are already discussing it.

“... thought those guys got all torn down by Blackwatch!”

“Officially, yes. But they still had ties with the Japanese government, so the clan couldn’t be completely taken out of power before the politicians stepped in,” Winston’s explanation doesn’t mean much to her at the moment, so she only listens with half an ear while drawing close enough to start reading through the data. Boring documentation of supplies required, some mention of politicians Talon seems to be working through… but a name catches her eye: Shimada. Not the same as Genji and Hanzo, is it? She looks to the other two in the room and clears her throat loudly, startling Winston and getting Tracer to blink a few times.

“Is this the same Shimada as Genji and Hanzo?”

Perhaps a bit blunt, and the sudden awkwardness displayed by Winston answers the question without words, though Tracer is suddenly piping up rather hastily. “It’s a - ehm - long story, luv, but Genji’s worked with the good guys for a long time! Just ask him about it! Or Jesse!”

Okay, a _little_ defensive there. Huntress hasn’t even begun forming an opinion yet, just a fair amount of confusion. What the Shimada clan is about, why Talon has connections to them, how Genji and Hanzo tie into the whole thing… well, at least there’s something of importance going on here, and the mission wasn’t worthless, so that’s something to be relieved about. She bobs her head lightly for Tracer’s benefit, earning a bright smile from the pilot before turning back to the data. A lot of talk about local connections in Hanamura, but nothing about their plans, or if major players will be installed there. What she does know about Talon tells her she’ll probably find Reaper and Widowmaker in any major disruption caused by the organization, whether she wants to or not.

Sombra, though? The woman seems a wildcard, so who knows. Her thoughts drift to the comm link waiting in her room still, shaking her head a little as she turns away from the screen. “Thanks for letting me see. I’ll go talk to Genji, or McCree.”

What does the cowboy have to do with any of it, though? Hold on, what he’d said about Reaper a while back, the covert ops of Blackwatch… okay, she thinks she might have at least part of the story, but there’s a lot missing, and she sets course back for the training room. But it’s empty again when she finally gets there, and she purses her lips with mild annoyance. Which way to go, then? Too early for dinner, but the brothers might’ve split to do different things now, and hell if she knows where McCree might be.

Oh, wait. Duh.

“Athena, do you know where Genji’s gone off to?” The joys of an AI having eyes and ears all over the base, honestly. A blessing and a curse all at once, but she has gotten used to it by now.

“He has just returned to his quarters. Do you need directions?”

“No, I remember how to get there.” Same area where most of their strange little band had chosen to stay, even if she herself had declined a room in the same wing. It’s been awhile since she’s gone that way, considering she has no need to, but she remembers well enough that she only makes one wrong turn on the way, and easily fixes her mistake. Which door was Genji’s now? Athena gives her an answer once more, and soon enough she’s knocking on his door, a dozen questions flitting through her mind and none of them seeming like a good way to start.

The door slides open to grant her entrance, though he isn’t at the door to greet her; she spots him sitting on the edge of his bed, immersed in the careful task of detaching armor plates.

“Is there something you want to discuss, Huntress?”

She’s been staring again, whoops. An awkward throat clearing as she takes a tentative step closer, the door sliding shut behind her quietly, and to keep herself from fidgeting she clasps her hands together, trying to consider how to broach the subject.

“I meant to say this earlier, but I apologize if my master has made you uncomfortable,” he starts suddenly before she can organize her choices, “it is simply his way to offer help whenever he believes he can do good for others. I was not entirely comfortable myself when first meeting him, but he has greatly helped me, more than I can ever hope to repay in a lifetime. Maybe you do not think you need or deserve assistance… but an open mind is better for the soul than a closed one.”

Not what she was expecting to talk about, and the idea leaves her shuffling her feet awkwardly, far from keen about assenting to anything having to do with peeking behind her more figurative mask.

“I’ll consider it,” she finally mumbles, then shakes her head quickly. Way off topic from what she wants. “Anyway, um. The datapad translation, it had some useful things on there, Talon’s local contacts and such. One of them is the Shimada clan.”

He’s been relaxed and focused on wiping down the armor plates with a small hand towel up until that point - now he tenses up briefly, visor tilting up so she can feel his gaze on her, as if trying to assess her feelings about it. She just waits, until eventually he sighs and sets down his work, seeming almost uncertain like herself on where to begin. Then he rises to his feet, moving to inspect what trinkets he has on the shelving beside the bed.

“That was my family once, yes. And Hanzo’s as well. The Shimada clan has long held power and dealt in weapons, among other illegal activities. Overwatch changed my life, though, and I was set on a different path, one that I believe has made me into a better person. This is the answer you seek, I suppose?”

Only a fraction of what she wants to know, honestly. “You worked with McCree in Blackwatch?”

Again, an instant of tension, as if surprised she knows the organization, but he nods. “Indeed. Much of our work was meant to take down the clan, but they were too clever, and were the reason for Blackwatch’s suspension. The yakuza and the government are tightly entwined even today, unfortunately.”

She ponders that for a moment, nodding to herself, then poses a bolder question. “Are they the reason you’re the way you are?”

There’s no obvious reaction from him this time; he must’ve been expecting that one. Silence does hang over the room for longer than she’s comfortable with though, but before she can consider apologizing and backing out he finally speaks up. “Perhaps later I might tell you my part of the tale. But you will have to see if Hanzo is ready to speak of it. It would be best if you heard from him first, I believe.”

Alright, that tickles her curiosity more than it should.

“Guess I’ll do that, then.”

“One more thing, Huntress.” Now he’s moving her way, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder for a moment. “Be kind to him, for my sake. He has gone through much, and the blame he assigns himself is far greater than any you could put on him.”

The mystery deepens, but she nods her agreement and is rewarded with the softest sigh of relief from him before he turns away and moves back to his bed, sitting on the edge once more and removing his visor as he does. Wait, weren’t his eyes dark the last time she saw them? They seem to be glowing a faint green now… fancy cyborg eyes, apparently. That’s unfairly cool.

“Thanks for being honest.” It’s all she can think of to say to excuse herself from the room, and thoughtlessly she dips into a brief bow of gratitude, then executes a quick heel turn to leave. The brothers’ mannerisms are starting to rub off on her, aren’t they? Well, not the cryptic half-truths or melodramatic flair yet, thankfully. Her pace is slower on the way out, rather directionless as she digests the relatively short interaction and the implications behind it. So Genji, McCree, and Reaper all worked together until Overwatch crumbled… Overwatch changed Genji’s path from what would’ve been a life of crime, apparently. The picture is getting there, more complete than it was, but Hanzo’s holding the last pieces, and Genji’s advice is frontmost in her thoughts. Whatever the older brother has to do with it all, it can’t have been good - it wasn’t so long ago that the man was facing her with the business end of an arrow, and things have only grown more complex from there.

What she does know is Hanzo is complicated, and maybe a bit of a mess like herself. What’s the likelihood that he’ll speak about what happened without prompting? Best guess, kind of low unless she dares something more than the current simplicity of their… does it count as friendship? More like familiar acquaintances in the same cause, maybe. A daunting thought, either way. She’s been doing her best to avoid getting attached to any of the people in the fight so far - Bastion doesn’t count.

It’s all too messy no matter how she looks at it; time to keep her curiosity reined in. Too much digging and she’ll find herself in a very deep hole soon enough, no doubt.

She buries it, and heads back to her wing to catch a shower and a nap.


	19. dorado conflict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter wrote itself in the space of roughly 6 hours and prior to starting it i had no idea where it would go. i now know where the chapter following this is going and i hope you all rail at me for the way this one ends hahaha. warnings for violence, injuries, and some blood. also cool rooftop action.

The next day sees her awoken horribly early by Athena with instructions to head to the dining hall for briefing - courtesy of Soldier:76, of course. Ugh, does it really have to be such an ungodly hour? Is the sun even up yet? Well, trouble doesn't sleep when it lives all around the world, she supposes. After a few sleepy minutes of getting dressed she’s out and shuffling along to the dining hall, yawns frequent and jaw-stretching. Upon arrival it’s apparent he’s only awoken those he deems required for whatever the mission’s going to be: the old soldier himself, Mercy (yawning just as much as Huntress is), Genji, Reinhardt… and Hanzo, surprisingly enough. Huh.

Some of the others are catching a quick breakfast, but she sits herself without grabbing any - no appetite so soon after waking up. As soon as she’s seated, Soldier:76 starts up with the information.

“Talon’s been sighted in Dorado, Mexico. It’s a known hotspot for Los Muertos gang activity too, dealing in weapons. If those two have been shaking hands lately it could mean better weapons for Talon and nothing good for us. Objective is to take down any active Talon operatives in the area and stop any ongoing weapon transactions. Any objections?”

His tone isn’t so much the ‘if you don’t want to come it’s okay’ kind and more of the ‘you’re coming, like it or not’ sort. His gruff demeanor has never been particularly endearing, only mildly more tolerable than Tracer’s unending cheerfulness. But she has no objections, and neither does anyone else, it seems.

“Get ready to head out then, we move in five.”

While the old soldier is already moving off - undoubtedly having gotten ready before even rousing any of them - she watches Mercy engage Genji and Reinhardt in low-voiced discussion, while Hanzo quietly focuses on finishing his breakfast. Thankfully Reinhardt is keeping his voice down for now, and she can hear her own thoughts. It's finally a mission that’s a little more the usual sort, and she can’t help but wonder if this is the right opportunity to try out Sombra’s little ‘gift’. Is it a bad idea without Winston on hand, though? It simply might not be the best time yet. She feels nervous just thinking about it, and finally dismisses the idea for now; there’ll be better opportunities some other time, hopefully.

With that sorted out she rises to her feet and heads off for the transport bay, though not before receiving a glance from Mercy that manages to chide her for not having any breakfast without speaking. Really now? All Huntress can do is shake her head a little before she leaves.

There’s footsteps behind her before long, moving fast enough to catch up to her with ease, and suddenly Genji is pressing an apple into her hand. “Doctor Zeigler’s recommendation, if you wish to keep her away for the day.”

That provokes a groan, for both the play off the saying and for the food that’s being pushed on her.

“I’ll eat later.” She rolls her eyes at Genji amidst his laughing, shoving the fruit away in a pocket for safekeeping. Maybe after a little more sleep on the transport, but as is she simply has no desire to eat right now. At the sound of footsteps from behind again she glances back, and this time it’s Hanzo, though he shows no inclination to catch up with the two in front of him. Genji looks back in turn, a grin in his voice as he calls back, “Brother! Your first mission with a team! Are you excited?”

“Not nearly as excited as I should be, so it seems,” Hanzo replies dryly. That gets Genji chortling again, slowing down so Hanzo can walk with him; thoughtlessly Huntress alters her pace in suit, and soon she has a Shimada to either side of her.

“You have been to this Dorado before, brother?” Hanzo again.

“A few times, yes. It was surprisingly peaceful, despite all the Los Muertos activity.” There’s a few interesting stories in there no doubt, but they’re entering the hangar already, the conversation breaking off as they detour through the adjacent armory to pick up their respective weapons. It feels good to have her rifle in hand for more serious combat instead of endless rounds of target practice, and she hefts the weight of it with a soft hum as they load up into the transport. Soldier:76 is already in the cockpit getting the engines warmed up and it isn’t long before the last two teammates are on board. From there, take-off is swift.

With improvement in technology and the usefulness of going back an hour for every timezone, the flight only takes several hours instead of a solid fourteen, even with the jet stream set against them; when they set down and the hatch opens Huntress can see dawn’s weak and distinctly reddened rays just starting to drip across Dorado. A nice city, all things considered.

An old proverb flits through her mind - red sky at morning, sailor’s warning. She ignores it and steps out into the dusty, ragged edge of town where Soldier:76 has landed them.

As usual, the old soldier takes the lead, silence falling over the team as they head further into town. The sunlight gradually shifts from red to orange but dims as clouds filter out the stronger rays - so maybe it is going to be a rainy sort of day, though she hadn’t noticed any turbulence on the way down. There are people awake and heading to work at this hour, but sticking to the back alleys and byways keeps them from drawing much attention from the locals. Eventually their path takes them past one of LumériCo’s fusion plants, and she eyes the ziggurat with mild interest. Perhaps Talon’s looking to sink their, well, talons into one of the plants? Controlling even a portion of Mexico’s energy output could do serious damage, and of course she remembers hearing about the crisis in King’s Row several years ago. Extremists and power plants… always bad news.

They push on though, until graffiti begins warning them whose territory they’re on with neon skulls and crossbones, and their surroundings grow a little more industrial in appearance. A light drizzle starts up and Huntress tugs on her hood, hugging her rifle close with a shiver. Hopefully the weather won’t be miserable the entire mission.

Finally, Soldier:76 brings them to a halt, a warning sign to remain silent before using the point and gesture method to assign positions.

To Genji, a circle-around motion; no doubt the cyborg will be taking out sentries along his way, since Huntress can only assume a meeting is occurring just ahead. To Reinhardt and Mercy, he gestures to remain close, most likely the main attraction when the time comes.

To herself and Hanzo, he gestures up - looks like they’ll be playing target practice from on high.

One last gesture indicating to follow the soldier’s lead, and then Genji’s off, swift as the wind and lethally silent. She shudders at the thought of being on the wrong end of his blade, then turns her gaze to Hanzo. Except Hanzo’s already moving too, scaling the side of the nearest building with all the agility of one who’s been climbing all his life, and she gawks for an instant before making her own way to an adjacent rooftop. She’s a little more civilized, climbing in an open first floor window and taking the stairs up to the flat top, a low and decorative parapet on all sides. The occasional glance keeps Hanzo’s position on her radar, but otherwise her attention is on the courtyard before her as she moves over several rooftops to a better angle. Crouching low to stay out of sight, she peers through the scope of her rifle to watch for the old soldier’s signal.

Talon in monotone, militaristic black makes a stark contrast to the rebellious cut and color of Los Muertos clothing. Where Los Muertos is using bandanas to hide faces, Talon has helmets and visors; where the terrorist organization holds assault rifles among their rear guard, the gang members have submachines and even a nail bat or crowbar in some hands. She’s glad not to be putting her knife up against those people, but Reinhardt will probably have fun with that in a minute.

Far more serious seems to be the money exchanging hands, and the fearsome weapons being loaded into a truck centered between the two groups - a lot of it looks to be military grade, and none of it looks friendly.

A roaring burst of flames rushes forward down the courtyard to strike the truck, an explosion occurs, and the fight rather abruptly begins. Not the most subtle signal she’s ever seen, but she doesn’t waste time and starts her sniping on the Talon side of the courtyard for as long as the disorganization lasts. No time to watch Reinhardt and the others charging in, as it doesn’t take long for her targets to understand what’s going on, and soon most of them have found cover behind which to shelter from incoming fire. It’s a little exciting to watch the action whenever a member of the team passes through the vision of her scope: Reinhardt charging through some flimsy cover with hammer swinging, Genji darting by with flickering green lights, or Mercy flying past to keep her charges in good health.

Huntress takes another glance in Hanzo’s direction, and spots smoky black tendrils moving in behind the archer that can only mean one thing. Her throat dries out with dread, but she aims carefully, and waits for Reaper to materialize properly before taking her shot.

“Hanzo, six o’clock, Reaper!”

The gunman is shuddering from the shot she’s taken as she calls out, but is still pulling out his shotguns while Hanzo jerks up, turning just in time to knock aside the gun that would’ve blasted him in the back at point blank range. Huntress is on her feet and racing to their position recklessly through the sprinkle of rain - she doesn’t dare shoot while Hanzo’s fighting Reaper in such close quarters, considering the danger of hitting her own teammate. The fight down below is out of sight, and out of mind.

One last leap over the gap between buildings and she comes up from a roll with her knife at the ready; now Reaper is facing two against one, though he acts as if her appearance is only a mild annoyance.

To be honest, she’s just a little terrified. The last thing she wants to be is in close quarters with Reaper and his shotguns, desperately dodging shots while timing her swipes to avoid hitting Hanzo, but here she is anyway, knowing full well that if given half the chance Reaper would gladly pick off team members one by one. Better to help Hanzo than to risk the archer being incapacitated while no one’s looking.

Reaper drops his shotguns to reload, and Hanzo presses in to pursue the perceived advantage only to find himself forced to defend - to her indignation she’s ignored with only a rough elbowing out of the way, and then indignation turns to fear the moment Reaper kicks Hanzo off the rooftop, right into the fray below.

She’s paralyzed for a moment as Reaper turns her way with a low laugh. “Just you and me, now.”

Déjà vu: an arrowhead protrudes through Reaper’s shoulder, driving a grunt from him; Huntress smiles weakly in appreciation to herself, a silent thanks given to Hanzo before turning flee across the rooftops. If she jumps down into the fray there’ll be no one to spot from the high ground, and Reaper will probably direct the remaining Talon agents up here. If she stays up here… a game of cat and mouse, until Hanzo can extricate himself from the firefight. If he can, anyway.

An amorphous swirl of black cuts her off just ahead, and mindlessly she turns on her heel in a new direction, cloaking before she freezes mid-step and sets herself low on the edge of the roof. That gives her a bit of breathing space, watching Reaper reform and stalk from roof to roof in search of his quarry, but she doesn’t dare take any shots just yet for fear of giving her position away.

Instead she waits with bated breath to the very last moment of her invisibility, takes careful aim - the instant before it drops she fires, a shot that hits Reaper in the back and sends him stumbling.

No time to waste though - she’s racing across the rooftops again to put distance between her and her antagonist, maybe fast enough to make Tracer proud, even. Dangerous going between the height, the stray bullets of the ongoing fight (a glance seems to show Los Muertos has scattered by now while Talon is peppering fire at Reinhardt’s shield), and worst of all the continuing drizzle that’s left puddles everywhere. One wrong step and she’ll end up with a twisted ankle, or far worse.

Again, a wraith-like form appears to cut her off, and this time her cloak is on cooldown, leaving her backpedaling to escape and losing her footing on the rain-slicked roof. A gasp as she begins to fall backwards, but it’s cut off as Reaper grasps the front of her outfit and halts her momentum.

“We’re not done here yet.”

She’s paralyzed with fright, and in that instant she’s lifted, tossed like a ragdoll off to the side without even a moment to prepare for what’s coming before she tumbles roughly on the rooftop over and comes up against the parapet with a harsh knock to the head that leaves her dazed. Fuck, where’s her knife? Her fingers are still fumbling for it when a rough kick to the ribs has her gasping for breath but struggling to rise all the same. Another kick and the sharp tang of metal in her mouth assures her that Reaper most definitely wears steel-toed boots. Even so, she clings to her rifle until it’s finally ripped from her grasp on her way back up, the cold sharp tips of his fingers digging into her cheek slightly as he forcibly grasps her by the jaw and lifts her up off the ground entirely.

Is this what it’s like to stare Death in the face? She doesn’t like it.

Huntress readies a smart-aleck remark to spit out before Reaper can speak, but before anyone can open their mouth an arrow whistles past both of them. Reaper growls, and drops her to her feet - just so that he can shove her off the edge.

She screams.


	20. blackmailed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back at it again at dorado, ayyy. i'm also working on a second fic right now thats an overwatch crossover, but idk if i'll post it around here. maybe on my tumblr instead. anyway heres some espionage.

Falling doesn’t take long. One moment the wind is rushing past her tumbling form, and the next there’s a wet, sickening _crunch_ when she meets the hard ground. For a minute she can only lie there stunned, still wheezing for lack of breath, wondering what she’s managed to break. Her head doesn’t feel like a crushed eggshell at least…

When she finally manages the strength to feel over herself, the hand that slips under her comes away wet and gritty from - smashed apple. That’s… better than expected. Other than an aching head and tender ribs, it seems like her fall hasn’t done any significant harm.

“So much for keeping the doctor away,” she murmurs to herself as she rises unsteadily. Mercy’s going to be all over her for making such a mess of herself.

“And what about keeping the hacker away, hm?”

Huntress whirls about to find the barrel of Sombra’s gun in her face, the woman behind it tilting her head with a devilish smile. “ _Hola_. You never picked up the phone, so I thought we could just visit in person again instead.”

A few delicate prods with the gun gets Huntress to start backing up, hands raised defensively as she’s moved along - her own weapon remains on the roof above, where she can hear a scuffle taking place accompanied by the thunder of shotgun blasts. Hanzo must be fighting Reaper in close quarters again, but she might as well have her hands tied at the moment, moving further away with every step she’s poked into taking. She’s of half a mind to try and cloak out of the situation, but Sombra seems too sharp for that, and the time it takes to cloak is about the same time it takes to pull a trigger. The hacker continues to back her up along the alley like this until all the sounds of fighting have diminished into the distance. It’s just like last time, except in reverse it seems: Hanzo helps her out, she faces Reaper alone, and now faces Sombra again. She has a worse feeling about this than last time, though.

“So, looks like you’re in trouble again. Must be a big pain, being on Talon’s bad side like this.”

Huntress rolls her eyes - maybe there’s a gun pointed at her, but by now she can guess that Sombra’s fishing for an angle, and far be it for her to make that job easy for the woman. Last time Sombra had the advantage of surprise and location, but letting it get to her is a one time thing, as long as the hacker doesn’t have anything _else_ hidden up her sleeves.

Sombra tsks, “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m just here to encourage you to look a little _harder_ at things, like how well you scrubbed your identity! Too bad it wasn’t good enough to escape _everyone_.”

With the flick of a wrist a display comes up, a series of photos that Huntress recognizes with a growing sense of dread - all her, all maskless, all from the life she’d discarded not too long ago. Her gaze flickers from them to Sombra, unable to disguise her alarm; Sombra smiles knowingly. There’s a growing nausea in the pit of her stomach now as the hacker seems to be waiting for her to say something, a lump in her throat forcing her to swallow.

“So what’s your point?”

Apparently satisfied with the hook she’s set, the hacker rests her gun on her shoulder, examining her nails as if utterly confident Huntress won’t flee. She’s right, of course. “My point is I like making friends, especially when my friends can do me favors. See, there’s bigger fish out there than Talon, _amiga_ , and if someone like me can find out who you really are, those fish wouldn’t have a problem either. It's a big pond for a small fry like you, after all. But if you help me out I’ll pull a few strings, keep these pictures nice and safe from Talon and anyone else who might want them. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. _Comprende?_ ”

Surely there’s a catch here somewhere. Her eyes glance over the photos again, teeth worrying the inside of her cheek before she reluctantly looks back to Sombra’s expectant expression. What else can she do right now except bend? “What do you want, then.”

Sombra smiles again. Huntress suppresses a shiver at the fox-like cunning in those eyes.

“You're going to break into a LumériCo fusion plant, and you're going to do everything I tell you to do, no questions asked - now put this on, _chica_.” Sombra tosses something at her, recognizable as a commlink once she catches it. Just the same as the first one, but without the benefit of Winston’s special additions… she frowns to herself but hooks it in place as asked.

“Now follow me and we won't have any trouble.”

With curling fingers Sombra turns away and sets off. For a bare instant Huntress thinks of running, but again the photos come to mind, the apparent ease with which Sombra seemed to have found them. What other remnants of her digital footprint are still lingering, waiting to be dug up? And what is Sombra’s real agenda, for that matter? It doesn't seem to truly align with Talon, but there's too much she doesn't know, and holding Huntress by the short hairs as she is, Sombra probably isn't about to divulge anything of value. She shakes her head and hurries after the hacker, grimacing to herself all the while.

The path they take is winding and seemingly disused, coming up to the backside of what she can only assume is the same ziggurat Soldier:76 had led them past not even that long ago. Huntress can't hear any sounds of fighting by now - was the Talon team defeated? With Reaper out there she can't be sure.

“Once you're inside I'll tell you what to do and where to do it. Clock’s ticking, _amiga_.” One more smile and Sombra winks out of sight; Huntress is alone. She groans, then turns her attention to her unwelcome task.

The first obstacle is a chain link fence that stretches along the back of the building, topped with a curl of barbed wire and blocking the way to the nearest entrance. No small obstacle, but not insurmountable - and it isn't as if she has no experience breaking into high security buildings. On top of that, Sombra’s voice purrs in her ear through the commlink suddenly, “Cameras are on a static loop for the next twenty minutes, so do what you need to do to get in and out quick.”

She needs no further encouragement than that, hastening to the fence and kicking up a heel to withdraw the wire clippers hiding within the hollow sole. A quick minute of clipping creates a makeshift door that she wrangles herself through. Next, the door… and naturally, a keypad bars the way. Before she can hesitate for more than an instant though, there's the sound of the door unlocking - Sombra again?

It swings open and there's a plant employee staring at her. _Fuck_.

The poor fellow takes a jab to the throat followed by a swift choke-out, and the moment he slumps unconscious she drags him in through the door with eyes casting about for a decent hiding place to stow him. Careful exploration behind a few doors finally finds her a nice little closet with a few cleaning supplies; Huntress stashes him behind the mops, then steps back out with a hand pressed to the commlink as she murmurs, “I'm inside.”

“Good. The top level is your goal. You can either use the main passageways, or maintenance corridors. Ventilation’s too steep without climbing gear, but if you have the tools then go right ahead, _chica_.”

Huntress doesn't have climbing gear hiding on her, unfortunately, so that really leaves her with only two options. Both come with the risk of running into more people, but her cloak and natural stealth are answers to that. The only issue is speed - time is short before the cameras come back on, so there's no room for caution or hesitation. Hastening off, she can only follow common sense on where to find a way up, dashing and searching as fast as she can and cloaking at the slightest disturbance. Sometimes it's nothing; sometimes she holds her breath as she hastens past plant employees. A fire escape map gives her what she needs finally, and when she finds the elevator lobby she also finds a gaggle of employees stepping out. They're taking their lunch break by the look of things… has she really been in Dorado for half a day already? It hasn't felt that long.

She slips past and into the empty elevator by cloaking, choosing the highest floor available and decloaking as soon as the doors close to start the cooldown early. Hopefully if anyone else calls the elevator, she'll be ready to cloak again before the door opens.

But it's an uninterrupted ride, thankfully, apart from Sombra humming in her ear. Huntress stolidly ignores her, waiting for the doors to open so she can pad out carefully. The top floor doesn't match the lower working levels: the floor is carpeted, and she quickly comes to the conclusion that this must be a set of executive offices for the upper level employees. If Sombra isn't looking to leech off the plant's electrical output, then… information, isn't it? Another PR disaster waiting in the wings for LumèriCo, she can only assume.

Sombra’s talking again. “Head to the plant manager's office, he left for lunch ten minutes ago.”

That's probably the biggest office, and her assumption is quickly rewarded by the nameplate she finds there. Antonio Escobar, plant manager: his door is locked, but in the other heel she keeps a lock pick set, and it takes less than a minute to get it open.

“You're so impressive, Huntress, I knew there was a reason I needed a friend like you. Now plant this commlink in the base of his desk lamp. You've got five minutes to get out after this, good luck.”

Just like that the device goes dead and Huntress yanks it off quickly, scowling under her mask. Five minutes isn't near enough time to get out before the cameras are back! But then, Sombra must see her as nothing more than expendable. Ugh. Nose wrinkling, she tucks it inside the lamp’s hollow base (how did Sombra know the lamp base would have room?), then scurries out with all due haste. Surely there’s a faster way out of here than how she got in… the vents, maybe? Going up them wasn’t possible, but climbing down could be feasible, and will get her out of view as well.

Down the hallway, the elevator dings softly, and she hastily ducks into an office; in an instant she’s climbing on the desk and using her wire clippers as a screwdriver to get the vent open. By the time the footsteps pass by, there’s nothing to mark her passage save for the cover plate sitting askew.

Time to get the hell out of Dorado.


	21. in between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its an in between kind of chapter, so eh. i don't know if any of you have noticed, but i do go back sometimes to edit the older chapters, particularly when blizz comes out with new story (read: fucks with my half-existing plot by trying to write their own weird shit). so if a big comic or event or whatever reveals something that isn't shittily written, chances are i'm either fixing older chapters to match or else revising my upcoming ideas.

Climbing down through the ventilation system is hell, earning her a whole new set of bruises for the day along her backside and forearms. It takes a full half hour to finally make her escape from the power plant, aching and exhausted but free - back on the right side of the chain link fence, she glances around wearily but finds no signs of either Talon or her team. Would they be searching for her, maybe? Her best bet is to head back to the transport, she's sure. With one last distasteful look at the ziggurat she limps off in the direction she remembers the transport being, sticking to the alleys despite the profusion of Los Muertos graffiti warning her off. A few dark alleyways with flickers of movement spook her into cloaking, until one of them turns out to be a much more familiar figure.

“Genji!”

Looks like the cyborg has just doled out a beatdown to some of Los Muertos, a ring of groaning or unconscious hoodlums sprawled around him as he quickly straightens up and glances about with a quizzical look. Right, still cloaked; Huntress drops the cloaking and limps over to him as fast as possible. “Huntress! Where did you go, what happened? Hanzo says you got pushed off a building!”

“I did,” she replies wearily, trying to shoo off his concerned tone with a wave of a hand. “Talon happened. I'm fine, just… ready to get back.”

He's looking her over as if to check for wounds, but finding none seems to take her words at face value.

“Everyone else is waiting back at the transport, we should hurry back. You’re sure you’re alright?” Thank goodness her suit can hide all the developing bruises from view. She nods, withstanding his scrutiny a moment longer before he turns and starts off. He seems to have noticed her limp though, keeping his pace slower than usual so she doesn’t have to work to keep up with him. She’s too tired to do anything more than squint at him for it, but it is a bit of a relief that he isn’t offering to carry her back or something absurd like that. Nor does he continue to pry - in fact, he’s decidedly quiet, not quite so energetic as usual.

She wonders a little, but the silence is fine by her. They travel with care, but the trip back is uneventful; the only scary thing that happens is the expression on Mercy’s face when they arrive, even as Huntress does her best to hide her limping.

“Every time I turn my back you’re getting into some kind of trouble,” the doctor admonishes her, but brings her staff about to begin healing nonetheless. Huntress winces a little. “It’s not all my fault…”

“Talon does seem to take a great deal of interest in you.”

Hanzo’s leaning against the open doorframe of the transport as he speaks, arms crossed and a brow raised as if to invite an explanation. The last thing she feels like explaining right now is the strange situation with Sombra, so she just shrugs a little and goes silent. The group silence is somewhat awkward in nature, but at least Genji doesn’t seem reluctant to break it, resting a hand on her shoulder lightly. “We are glad you are alright, Huntress. But I hope you will be more careful about getting separated from the team next time. That’s twice now!”

At that he shakes his head with a small laugh, and she can feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Mercy gives a sigh, shooting Genji a glance that sends him hastening off into the transport, then turns her gaze to Huntress in a way that makes her shift uncomfortably. “It does make one wonder why you seem to get targeted so often…”

All she can do is shrug again, and with as much of a spotlight shining on her right now she’s starting to wish Reaper had pushed her off a taller building.

Though Mercy watches a moment longer, the doctor finally shakes her head as well, withdrawing her staff and heading on in, while Huntress surreptitiously shakes out her legs one at a time to ensure the bruising is gone. The wonders of modern medicine - Mercy really is a saint for putting up with all of them.

Belatedly she realizes Hanzo hasn’t moved, simply watching from where he stands with his head tilted to the side, as if something about her behavior beggars curiosity. She dusts herself off somewhat self-consciously now, hastening up the ramp into the transport and finding herself momentarily halted by a light touch on the shoulder from him.

“I am glad to see you unharmed. I was… deeply concerned, but that man, Reaper - I was forced to confront him,” he admits, gaze downcast. Is he apologizing?

She shakes her head a little. “You did what you could, it’s fine.”

No way of flashing him a smile with her mask hiding it, so she pats his shoulder gently and goes to take her seat - from the cockpit a rather grouchy sounding Soldier:76 asks if everyone’s _finally_ ready to get going, though Genji slides into the seat next to her and whispers that the old soldier was the one to tell Genji to search for her. Not everyone is forthright with their concern around here, she knows as much. Once everyone’s settled the hatch finally closes and the transport lifts off, signalling a chance for Huntress to get some much needed rest. Not that it’s easy to sleep with so many questions on her mind about Sombra, LumèriCo, Reaper… but she does manage to doze off eventually, rousing only when Genji nudges her to let her know they’re almost back. What time is it, even? A glance outside shows only darkness, but she’ll take Genji’s word at face value, keeping her eyes open even though she’d rather get back to catching what sleep she can.

The next twenty minutes drag on, and she almost drifts off again, except just like that they’re settling down in the hangar. Everyone else looks almost as tired as she feels; it’s no surprise that they all scatter to go their separate ways as soon as the ramp’s down and weapons are back in the armory. She has Hanzo’s company on the walk back to her quarters, though.

And Genji’s too, apparently. Why he’s walking with them, she can’t fathom, but she doesn’t do anything more than glance at him with a raised brow. The trip is made in near silence, and when they finally split ways it’s his brother that Genji continues along with, giving her a small wave goodnight that she reciprocates with a nod. Hanzo doesn’t seem bothered, so whatever business Genji has to discuss _probably_ isn’t too serious. Probably. Not her business, either way.

Huntress settles herself in for what turns out to be a few brief bouts of sleep accompanied by a fair amount of tossing and turning, wrestling with the unanswered questions plaguing her.

When she next checks the time with Athena (an unholy hour, as it turns out), she hauls herself out of bed and gets dressed, leaving her quarters in a rather aimless fashion. It’s far too early to bother Winston with the latest development concerning Sombra, but she’s probably not going to get any good sleep until noon at the earliest. Aimless wandering it is, then.

Outside the sky is clear and the temperature balmy, but the moon is nowhere to be seen - she has to wait a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then moves off along the most disused path she can find. Weeds have cropped up thickly along this route, making every step rustle softly as she pads along. The quiet isn’t as relaxing as it should’ve been, the humidity in the air like a weight on her shoulders. How does she keep ending up in such sticky situations? Sombra seems to have latched onto her, and there seems to be nothing she can do to keep herself from being played like a fiddle. It’s frustrating, and the underlying threat in every encounter is leaving her with a dire need to punch something.

The sky is starting to lighten up with the first hints of dawn when she stumbles across McCree, smoking his first cigar of the day apparently. The dramatic lighting it casts on his face as she rounds a corner startles her, but she suppresses the urge to reach for her knife. All things considered, he probably wouldn’t let her hear the end of it if she did.

“Well g’mornin’, sunshine. Ain’t lookin’ too well-rested there, are ya?”

“You’re no sunflower yourself,” she grumbles, earning a chuckle from him as he exhales smoke upwards. “I might not be a pretty flower, but I’m still easy on the eyes at least. Say, I was just about t’head to the training yard. Care to show a man some of that sharpshootin’ of yours?”

“My… what?”

“Your talent with a gun, darlin’. Ain’t as good as myself of course, but you ain’t half bad either. I could always give you a couple pointers if you like. Happen to have learned some good ones from the best.”

The cowboy is dropping the remaining stub of his cigar on the ground already and crushing it under his heel - at the squint she focuses on him he heaves an exaggerated sigh and picks it up off the ground, tucking it away to _hopefully_ dispose of it properly later. Ugh, such a gross habit. “So, willin’ to show off a little?”

“... I’d have to get my rifle from the armory.”

McCree perks up, looking pleased. “That’s fine by me. I’ll meet you at the training yard, how about that? Don’t dawdle too long now, you hear?”

With a tip of his hat he’s off, leaving her to stand in the predawn gloom in silence save for a small sigh. Well, maybe it’ll keep her mind off of everything until she goes and talks to Winston. Maybe McCree will keep those disgusting cigars out of his mouth if she squints hard enough at him, too. She can hope, anyway. A quick shake of the head and she heads off towards the armory, collecting her weapon and taking her own path to the training yard. Sharpshooting… that’s an embarrassing way to describe it. She’s a decent shot, sure, but a sharpshooter? Maybe he’s just trying to flatter her.

The sounds of McCree already getting some practice can be heard as she enters the training yard, and she soon spies him making quick work of the moving training bots that weave in and out of view through doorways and behind pillars. Such a cavalier way of shooting, little in the way of aiming - almost all reflexive hipshots, but he hits a vital target every time. And he called _her_ a sharpshooter? Definitely flattery.

As he empties the shells from his gun he acknowledges her presence with a nod. “Your turn, darlin’. Change the setup if you like, I don’t mind.”

Changing any of the current setup would take effort of course, and Huntress is too tired for that. Shrugging a little, she hefts her rifle into a more ready position while the cowboy gets out of her way. At mid-range and with moving targets the scope is a little too much, so she aims without it and takes her time lining up shots. She’s slow but thorough, and it isn’t too long before she’s tagged every bot at least once. Not as many headshots as she would’ve liked, but neither is she embarrassed by the number. Of course, it’s nothing like the real heat of battle, when her pulse thunders in her ears and shots are more often than not fired on pure muscle memory. In comparison, the training yard is a mere carnival game.

“Not bad. Good to see you ain’t glued to the scope like some folks are, blinds you to up-close danger.”

Huntress grimaces, shaking her head. “I already learned that lesson the hard way.”

Along with some others - differing severity, naturally, but some of them had earned her painful wounds and embarrassing scoldings from certain, more experienced teammates.

The gesture earns her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as McCree tips his hat up with the barrel of his revolver. “We all got a few of those, don’t let it sting too much. In my book, if you ain’t dead yet then you’re doin’ pretty damn good so far.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replies with a soft snort, in turn causing him to chuckle.

His turn again, and he slows down the action so she can follow closely. A revolver is nothing like a rifle, but many of the basics can apply, and it never hurts to learn as much as possible - it helps her forget how tired she is, too. On her next turn she tries to incorporate some of his techniques, though the results are understandably mixed.

“A real shame Captain Amari ain’t around anymore to share some of her tricks. Best damn sniper I ever had the honor of working with…”

“Mm. What time is it?”

“... You ain’t tryin’ to pull a high noon joke, are you?”

“Do I look like I am?” She sends a dry look his way, brows lifted up under her bangs. “Just makin’ sure, can’t blame me. Let’s see, it’s quarter to nine actually - time flies when you’re shootin’ guns.”

Huntress stifles a groan and merely rolls her eyes at his lopsided grin, turning away as she rests her rifle on her shoulder. It’s probably a reasonable hour to go bother Winston now… and maybe get some breakfast before crawling back under a blanket, judging by the way her stomach is gnawing at her backbone.

“Business to take care of, I reckon?”

“A few things, yes.” When she glances back she gets a heavy ruffling of her hair for her troubles, grumbling in annoyance even as McCree laughs. “Alright then. Me and Gatita are gonna be headin’ out soon to handle some business of our own, might be gone a week or so if trouble doesn’t rear its ugly old head.”

“Knock on wood, McCree.”

He looks around and finds none in sight, finally shaking his head. “Just cross your fingers for us instead, then. Catch you later, sunshine.”

She nods, then heads off at a brisk pace.


	22. short and sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm incredibly sorry it took me over a month to spit out this measly little thing. it's mostly been a struggle trying to sift through all the things i wanna do and meld them into a coherent plot of some kind, and also balance down time with action. so we'll see if i can get things under control.

“Sooooo, me and Winston were thinking that _maybe_ you and Genji need to go to Hanamura again to sabotage the Talon operations there, maybe blow some things up, beat up some bad guys, and-”

“Maybe. Can it wait, Tracer? I need to talk to Winston.”

She doesn’t mean to sound so irritable, shaking her head after a moment with a mumbled apology for the pilot. How Tracer doesn’t trip going up the stairs backwards is a mystery, but it doesn’t seem to distract her from looking confused for a moment, then smiling brightly and giving a quick thumbs up. “Gotcha! Winston can tell you about it then, I’ll go ask Genji!”

And there she goes. Huntress can only heave a sigh before continuing on to the main interface room, where Winston is - simultaneously eating from a peanut butter jar using his hands and tinkering with some small device with his feet.

(It must be absurdly useful to have prehensile feet. She’s almost jealous.)

“Oh, uh, Huntress! I was just, uh - hold on-” He almost drops both the peanut butter and the device but recovers admirably, shuffling them onto the desk before standing. “Sorry about that, just er, multitasking. Did Tracer explain our idea to you yet?”

“Sort of, but I have more important things to talk about first. The mission some of us just went on, in Dorado… Sombra was there.”

That gets his attention, and Athena’s for that matter, the AI’s symbol cropping up on the nearest display as a show of interest. The next few minutes she describes what happened as succinctly as she can, along with her assumptions about the hacker’s business. Of course, no mention of being blackmailed, since that’s her personal problem. A brief discussion of the situation goes nowhere, and soon Winston is proposing his mission idea instead. Not quite the same mission as last time: sabotage as much as possible, a full team possibly… sounds pretty grand and exciting, but all she can think of is Sombra holding a gun to her, getting separated from the safety of the group once again and coerced into more dubious deeds for the sake of protecting her old life. The hacker has an uncanny way of showing up out of nowhere - how can she possibly know when to expect Sombra’s next appearance?

Not that Huntress doesn’t enjoy being absolutely reckless with her own life, but keeping the consequences to herself is much preferred. There’s no telling how much is at stake right now, and that makes her pretty damned nervous.

“I… it’s not a bad idea, but you should run it by more people I think.”

“The more minds the better, I suppose you’re right.” Winston nods, adjusting his glasses. “I’ll send abbreviated versions to Dr. Zeigler and some of the others to see what they think.”

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent! I mean, let me know if you think any of it needs changing, of course.” The scientist is doing a terrible job of hiding his excitement by adjusting his glasses, but Huntress’s mask does a fine job of hiding the slight smile on her face. “I will.”

With that she’s off. First it’s to the empty dining hall for the quick meal her stomach has been demanding, then away to her quarters where she only takes the time to take boots, cloak, and mask off before crawling into bed and falling asleep within just a minute or two. A much more restful sleep this time around, but when a knock at her door finally rouses her it feels as if only seconds have passed. Her head feels stuffed with wool, and she’s not entirely certain there actually was a knock.

No, there it is again.

Huntress hardly wants to get up, yet she drags herself out of the covers and fumbles with her mask on the way to the door. A few seconds are spared for dragging her hair into a more presentable look before she opens the door to find a tray of food held practically in her face. Oh.

“I… I’m not-”

“Hungry, of course. Now where have I heard that before, hm?” Genji’s voice holds a familiar note of amusement. She stares for a long moment, sleep-fogged brain giving her a hard time before she shakes her head and clears her throat. “What time is it?”

“Almost 8 pm. No one saw you all afternoon or at dinner, so-”

There he goes pushing the tray at her; she turns away from it with a groan while dragging a hand across her eyes. Does he _really_ have to go through this skit right now?

“I mean it Genji, I’m not hungry right now. I just woke up.” Still feeling sluggish, she moves back to the bed and flops gracelessly, dragging a pillow over her head so she can muffle the sound of his footsteps entering the room. Unsurprising, and same goes for the gentle depression on the edge of the bed near her feet where she can assume he’s now sitting. “When I was younger, I would often spend all night partying with my friends, spend the morning hungover, then sleep all afternoon before doing it all again! It was a terrible way to waste time when I think back on it. Of course, I was very foolish back then.”

Silent, Huntress can almost feel the gap between where he sits and her sprawled leg, making her skin prickle strangely. A bleary eye peeks out to spy on him, noting the tray has left his hands - over on the desk, there.

“You have not spoken with Hanzo yet, I suppose.”

“... Mm. No.” A muffled reply, as she hasn’t deigned to withdraw her head from under the pillow. Soon the silence seems to request an explanation, and when it stretches on she sighs softly. “It isn't really my business, being nosy doesn't accomplish anything. If he wants to talk about it, that's his prerogative.”

A quiet huff escapes him in turn; she imagines the amusement on his face as glittering eyes and a lopsided smile. Why he's tickled by that, though, she isn't sure.

“Are you avoiding my master now?” That query throws her for a loop, a small twitch as she nearly sits up but refrains.

“No. What makes you think I would?”

The cyborg chuckles almost inaudibly, her ears barely catching the sound. “He has always wanted to help others, though he can be… forward in his way. You tend to resist being helped, Huntress. I'm sure he will offer you help sooner or later.”

His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “From personal experience, he’s very helpful. I would recommend saying yes.”

A roll of the eyes is hidden from his view, yet she feels a mild unease at the accuracy of this new line of conversation. Of course, the first words rolling around on her tongue are the usual - she doesn’t want to be helped. She had turned and walked away from Zenyatta, unnerved and quick to deny. She isn’t transparent, right? Maybe she does struggle, but…

_Sometimes proving strength seems to be all that matters anymore._

“You haven’t fallen asleep under there, have you?” Genji has just begun to lift up the corner of the pillow when she swats his hand away gently. At that he laughs, then she can feel the weight on the edge of the bed ease up as he stands. “Very well then, I’ll leave you to your rest. Eat some of this when you get up, okay?”

Huntress hears him moving to the door, and the sudden urge to call him back is choked up in her throat, a strange urge that doesn’t exactly win, but - “... Good night, Genji.”

“Good night, Huntress.”


	23. burning slightly faster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm terrible at chapter titles leave me alooone. alternate title: how much blushing will it take to burn the mask right off huntress? we just don't know. anyway this is me officially turning up the stove heat, but who knows, something terrible might happen after this. (jk i don't know yet.)

She’s next awake at an ungodly hour, and no amount of tossing beneath the covers will lure her back to sleep. A low groan precedes her sitting up, a grimace revealed by the hand that drags her mask off - ugh, she fell asleep with it on. Her own morning breath is trying to suffocate her, so might as well take some time to clean up. With the right supplies in hand and a growing pile of too many thoughts she’s off to the showers, bare feet on cold metal as always making her wince along the way. A warm shower helps rinse away the last dregs of brain fog, as well as get her hair in a better place.

The thought of a haircut is floating around again though, towel draped over her head while she redresses and steps out. Long hair is a pain, anyway…

Wait, is that a sink running?

Huntress lifts up the edge of the towel and freezes as she spots Hanzo washing his face, a loose kimono draped over his shoulder and held closed by a simple sash. Oh. Okay. Well. After a protracted moment she slowly drags the towel over her face and considers inching back to the shower, starting slightly at the sound of his voice making itself heard over the running water. “Good morning, Huntress. Feeling well, I hope?”

“Ah, I… yeah. I’m fine. Just… needed enough sleep.”

She thinks she hears that classic little hum of amusement, but can’t be certain. For the moment she does what she can to make herself look less of a fool by turning away and working the towel over her hair vigorously instead of just hiding her face under it as if she were shy. It’s not as if she doesn’t have her mask, but she wants to brush her teeth first. As usual though, holding back due to Hanzo’s unexpected company. Really, the hangup is getting a little stale.

Okay, fuck it. It’s early o’clock, he’s polite enough to look away, and her mouth tastes gross. Draping the towel over her shoulder, she turns and steps to the sink she’d left her brushes at and gets to work with them - first teeth, then hair, until she finally resembles a functioning human being. How about that?

“Would you be interested in training with me this morning?” When she glances over she sees he’s pulled his hair down from it’s usual style, ribbon carefully folded beside the sink as he works a comb through his hair. Each stroke seems as gentle and meticulous as the last, never disturbing his tufted sideburns or yanking too hard when catching a tangle. Eyes closed, he appears meditative in the act, a pleasantly neutral expression she finds herself lingering over. Staring again, of course. She needs to work on not doing that. Thinking on the offer a bit, she finally shrugs, then speaks up upon remembering he’s not looking. “Sounds fine. Genji and Zenyatta?”

“Genji told me they would be meditating first. If that bothers you then…”

“No, it’s fine. Alright. I’ll meet you in the training room then.” She puts her mask on somewhat hastily, somehow feeling… embarrassed? Nervous? Absurd. She’s fine, there’s nothing weird about this kind of training. Hanzo has plenty of skills worth learning.

“Very well then.” Hanzo hasn’t even budged, still combing his hair as if he has all the time in the world. After staring again for longer than she should, Huntress hurries out of the bathroom with a quick head shake, mindlessly fussing with the towel on her shoulder as if it might help dispel the odd sensation of going to train with just one of the Shimadas. Hey, it’s no weirder than shooting at the practice yard with McCree, right? Except McCree doesn’t have the piercing eyes, or the more reserved demeanor that makes conversation quiet and minimal - she’s only heard Hanzo laugh once or twice in all the time he’s been here so far, if she remembers right.

She almost bypasses her room entirely, caught up in thought as she is, and has to quickly backtrack to get the rest of her outfit together before properly heading out to the training room.

It’s a bit of a wait for him; Huntress uses the time to stretch and warm-up, forcing her thoughts out of her mind as best she can and focusing on the tension and release of each muscle held taut for seconds at a time. No, training alone with Hanzo isn’t going to be like practicing with McCree, and not just because of cultural differences. McCree doesn’t set her stomach flopping in strange ways, and she’s never thrown the cowboy out a window.

… Did she ever apologize for that? It might be too late at this point. Great first impression, wasn't it?

Looking up from touching her toes, she finds herself under Hanzo's gaze, the archer leaning against the doorframe with arms lightly crossed. As usual, a neutral expression, but when their gazes align the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth creates a faint smile. He has a nice smile, when he actually deigns to show it at least.

She straightens up to look a little less foolish, fingers drawing her hair behind her where it belongs. Boots and cloak have already been stowed up against the wall, a choice which Hanzo is copying in turn before he steps out onto the mats and begins his own stretches. To preempt another bout of staring she goes right back to stretching herself, using a few deep breaths to focus again. Nice and steady… and stop peeking at Hanzo. Geez.

“I am ready whenever you are, Huntress.”

Oh, already, okay. She straightens up quickly again, turning to face him and realizing her shoulders are stiff, taking a quick breath and shaking out her arms, to the raised brow in Hanzo’s expression. In return she clears her throat with as much dignity as possible and bows quickly - a slight huff escapes him, but he bows in return, and they settle into their stances to begin. Huntress lets her usual reckless offense take the lead, already testing his defenses with swift kicks and deceptive blows that bait and switch. He’s on top of things as usual, a solid but fluid fighter that evades blows as easily as he blocks them, not taking an offensive of his own yet as he simply plays the defender. At least she’s familiar with his tactics now, able to escape a counter-parry that would’ve left her flat on the floor. In turn though he slips from potential armlocks and dodges tactics meant to drop him on the floor as well, and it almost feels equally matched as they look for openings against each other.

For a moment she finds her gaze locked with his, a long enough stare that she loses focus from it - and of course he takes the moment to strike. Seconds later she’s on the floor, a little winded but quick to rise to her feet again, and the fight is on again. Next it’s her turn to strike at a perceived weakness, except it’s not one at all but a trap, and this time as she lands on the floor it’s also with his weight bearing down to pin her as well. Now it’s grappling, which is a slight surprise to her; Hanzo’s always seemed more keen on keeping the fight off the ground rather than taking it there. Testing himself, perhaps?

Either way, she’s quick to shrimp out from under him and seek a proper hold that can be used to her advantage, which ends up being on what passes for a collar on his top, close to the neck. A struggle ensues, each vying and evading, the fight tumbling around the floor until she manages to land herself on top of him, the tightly clenched fist on his top having dragged it almost off him entirely. By now they’re both out of breath, resting instead of continuing the spar.

“Comfortable?”

At Hanzo’s prompting she realizes her free hand is resting on his chest rather thoughtlessly; it recoils swiftly at that, as does the other hand in turn, leaving his top incredibly askew and chest entirely bare. The blush is probably burning through her mask right now, doubly so as she notices the equally thoughtless placement of his hands: one on her shoulder, the other on her thigh.

Alright, stay cool Huntress. No wavering voice in that retort, now. “Are you?”

He blinks, then apparently realizes how little room he has to speak, hands making their own retreat and a noticeable redness creeping over his face even as he manages a quiet laugh that rumbles in his chest and furthers the heat on her own face.

(She’s really fucking up at the no attachments rule right now. _Fuck_.)

“I thought you didn’t really care for grappling, you always avoid it.” Huntress rises to her feet as she speaks, hesitating before offering a hand to help him up, and he accepts the gesture with a nod of gratitude. The archer takes the time to salvage his dignity and get his top fixed before he responds, a soft throat clearing preceding the thoughtful words. “It is not usually my preference to fight on the ground, yes. However, it would be foolish not to push myself to become comfortable with it, should such a situation arise. And you are well-versed in fighting in this manner, so I appreciate your willingness to train with me.”

And now he’s bowing lightly; her face is heating up again.

“It’s uh, no problem. You’re pretty good at it already, so I guess just - practice more, really.” Shrugging as nonchalantly as possible, she’s just starting to turn away when he replies, “You will assist me with that endeavor then, I trust?”

Despite almost choking on her spit, she manages to swallow it and respond with a faint, “Sure. Whenever you like.”

That was terrible and so very incredibly weak. It if it wasn’t for the mask so conveniently covering half her face she’d be burying it in her hands to escape her own embarrassment; as it is she finishes her heel-turn as quick as she can and starts towards her stowed equipment against the wall. Before she can manage more than a step or two there’s the sound of the door opening to admit Genji and Zenyatta into the room. Oh, that’s just _great_.

“Brother, Huntress, good morning! I see you’ve been practicing without us.”

The teasing lilt in Genji’s voice is the last thing she needs right now, already feeling hapless enough as it is - she picks right back up where she left off, a hasty stride carrying her to retrieve her boots and cloak even as she can feel all three of them watching her. When turning to explain herself, all she can muster is a lame, “Breakfast. I need some. I - yeah.”

(Breakfast is a lie. What she really needs is to scream into a pillow for a while.)

It’s only after she’s left the room and made it halfway to her quarters that she realizes she’s barefoot, simply holding her boots.

_Wow._


	24. heading south

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we did it kids, we hit 1000 hits, we climbed that whole mountain. Next stop uh, 1250? we'll see.

She doesn’t dare admit it where anyone might hear, but she likes training with Hanzo. And no, it’s not because of the close proximity it puts them in. Really.

(... _Okay_. She does like that too, just a little.)

It keeps her sleep schedule a little more regular in all honesty, even if she’s never been fond of early mornings. In between small missions, intercepting Talon shipments or resupplying the watch point, she’s more often than not in the company of at least one Shimada, whether she actually seeks it herself or not. Huntress is even less willing to admit that she’s growing fond of their companionship, where with the rest of the haphazard Overwatch ‘team’ she remains distant, and with Zenyatta, well - that feels like the most uncomfortable staring match in the world, but there’s no way she’ll acknowledge that he might be right, no matter how many times Genji nudges her about it. She’s _fine_.

Another mission run in Egypt, and Soldier:76 vanishes from their ranks. None of the more experienced members have answers to the event; Huntress wonders if perhaps the old eye-patched sniper from her first time to Egypt has anything to do with it, but she has no solid answers either. Just wild guesses, and bemused wonder that they've been accomplishing anything with such a strange team.

At least mission briefings become a little less formal with the old soldier gone, less military and more collaborative, and even Hanzo seems to finally integrate with the others a bit more, if only with overt effort on Genji’s part to try and overrule the others’ unknown reluctance that Huntress still doesn’t understand.

It’s during one of these sort of ‘workshop’ evenings when everyone’s gathered around the holo displays in the communication bay and going over the latest intel Athena has that a chiming from the main interface catches everyone’s ear. At Winston’s request this new alert takes over the holo table, zoning in on - Antarctica? A colorful blip winks repeatedly, though Huntress only stares blankly without recognition while the older members discuss among themselves. The word ‘Ecopoint’ only brings up a vague recollection for her about Overwatch’s expansions into other fields aside from peacekeeping. Right, they’d done some geological and environmental stuff too, right?

“Message incoming,” Athena announces, and immediately they all quiet down while heavy static begins pouring from the speakers. Wait, not static… is that wind? Sounds like a heavy windstorm.

“Is anyone - re? This is… ou, calling from Ecopoint… tica. Can any - read me? Requesting emergency - please! The station … much longer.”

It’s hard to understand the garbled and broken words through the screaming winds accompanying them, but the jist of it seems clear enough: someone’s stuck, and possibly in serious danger. Mercy, whose face had scrunched with concentration moments ago, suddenly seems to have an epiphany. “That’s Dr. Zhou, the climatologist! She was working with a team researching climate change around the time Overwatch was disbanded… was Ecopoint Antarctica not evacuated nine years ago?”

“If I recall correctly, Doctor Zeigler, there was a storm that cut off communications at one point. Perhaps the evacuation was not as successful as it was believed to be…” Genji sounds contemplative, which might be a bit too calm when discussing the possibility that an entire team of scientists was forgotten in the Antarctic for almost an entire decade. How would they have survived?

“We can’t leave them out there!” That’s Tracer, bounding around the group as if she can no longer contain her energy. “We’ve got to get a rescue team out there quick, we don’t have much time from what I heard!”

“Agreed! However…”

“What is it, Reinhardt?”

He scratches his cheek, looking rueful. “I’m not as young as I used to be, the cold is not so good for my joints... I uh, maybe ought to sit this one out.”

The doctor gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, while Torbjörn snickers quietly - Huntress doubts the engineer has much room to talk, though. Well, that still leaves a number of them to go, right? She glances around the table to see who else might have an excuse.

“I am… ill-equipped for cold weather.” Hanzo’s statement comes with the overt, unspoken continuation ‘I hate cold weather’ that makes Huntress snort and Genji let out a brief huff of laughter before patting his brother’s shoulder, teasing pity in his voice. “It would not do for you to face the cold winds dressed as you are, hm? Poor Hanzo, you would be frozen in a minute!”

He pushes Genji’s hand off with a look of annoyance, but is discreetly tugging on the hem of his top as soon as his brother isn’t paying attention - yeah, Huntress can understand why he’d rather not go.

“I’ll go.” Winston adjusts his glasses, looking over his datapad. “I maybe be more of a tropical climate primate, but if there’s any trouble I should be able to give us some cover.”

“That sounds like a great idea, Winston. I will go as well, should any of the scientists...” Mercy trails off.

Huntress isn’t going to say it, but she’s thinking it: if any of the scientists need serious medical attention right this minute, then even with high-tech facilities they could already be dying or dead. Time really is of the essence here, isn’t it? She tugs on her cloak a little before starting for the door. “I’m going. If it’s that urgent, then we don’t have time to waste talking about it anymore. Everyone else make a decision, but let’s hurry it up.”

She only glances over the surprised looks at the holo table briefly before picking up her pace. Her outfit does have some built-in insulation, even if it probably wasn’t made with Antarctica in mind - best make it a really quick mission, then. A series of clunking steps behind her inform her of a follower, and when she looks over her shoulder Bastion gives a whirring greeting, hand tilting from side to side in a friendly wave. Though tilting her head a little, she slows so the omnic can catch up. “You want to come too? Don’t know if your innards can withstand the cold any better than mine can…”

Bastion chirps in reply, and Huntress shrugs, “Alright then, I won’t stop you from coming.”

They make their way to the transport bay in relative silence… well, as quiet as it gets with Bastion tromping along beside her. Hm, so if it’s herself, Bastion, Winston, and Mercy, then that leaves room for two more. Tracer probably, but what about Genji? Do cyborgs feel the cold? Who knows.

At the transport bay she mills aimlessly after picking up her rifle and grenades from the armory, feeling odd about getting in the transport without everyone else. Here come Mercy and Winston - and Tracer zipping past them with a hum, guns in hand. Though, now that Huntress thinks about it… “Are we expecting any trouble at the Ecopoint, aside from bad weather I mean?”

“It’s not likely, but it never hurts to be prepared,” Mercy replies as she steps out of the armory, holstering her pistol as she does. Winston, carrying that big cannon like it weighs a few meager pounds, adds on, “Better safe than sorry, naturally.”

They’re definitely right, and she’s not going to argue, simply nodding as Tracer opens up the transport hatch and dashes inside like it’s a gold medal race. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”

Alright, guess it is a race. Well, it kind of is, since they really shouldn’t waste time getting to the scientist...s? How many are there, anyway? Hopefully there’s enough room on the transport for however many there might be. Huntress mulls over the thought as she climbs aboard, Bastion stomping in behind her and Mercy bringing up the rear of the little troupe. Except - wait, Zenyatta?

“There is room for one more, correct?” he inquires in that usual placid tone. While Tracer’s confirming that Huntress takes to her usual seat with a growing sense of discomfort that has nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with the idea that she’s going to be stuck on this transport for at least an hour with Zenyatta, silently hoping that he won’t get nosy while the others are here. He’s at least that polite, right? She’s still not comforted by her own logic.

“Buckle up folks, this is your pilot speaking! Today’s flight is looking to be a nice, smooth trip around three hours and forty minutes. Hope you brought snacks!”

Huntress did not bring snacks. Instead she’s brought an extra heavy sense of discomfort that manifests as an immediate attempt to take a nap, the hood of her cloak tugged as far forward as it can go. Thank goodness that, as usual, her sleep has been out of whack, and she’s tired enough to sleep solidly. When Mercy gently taps her shoulder to wake her she jerks upright rather quickly, heart racing and images still flickering through her brain - nothing she wants to remember, pushing them out of mind as best she can. “We’re here?”

“Sure are, love! Let’s get to it!” Tracer, peeking over Mercy’s shoulder, flashes a peace sign before darting across to the access hatch and opening it.

Antarctic wind immediately blasts into the transport with a flurry of snow; Huntress is wracked with a shiver as she rises to her feet. This kind of cold will make quick work of her if she lingers outside too long… best get through this as fast as possible.

“I’ll go first, I should be able to make us a trail to use.” Winston’s fixing his glasses as always, placing his cannon on his back before taking the first steps down the ramp. Behind him follows an impatient looking Tracer, Mercy, Bastion, Zenyatta… she hesitates, but before the rest of the team can vanish into the white landscape, she takes a deep breath and hastens after them, holding tight to her rifle and trying not to shiver too much.

…

 _Shit_ , she hates the cold. Even with the path Winston’s breaking for them, she still sinks in a few inches with each step, and the wind steals her breath more often than not. On the upside, there’s a slanted, icicle-coated picket line for them to follow, and thank god for it - she can only see as far ahead as Bastion before the others disappear in the blurry whiteness. Even Zenyatta seems to be having a bad time with the weather: for the first time she now sees him walking, a hand on the picket to steady him. Still, each step seems deliberate otherwise. Geez, omnic monks are something else.

The walk seems to take forever, and her face is totally numb when their party comes to a halt.

Everyone’s huddling in closer, and Huntress realizes there’s a foreboding wall of ice before them, barely visible in the flurries of snow rushing past. But the door framed by all that ice stands out as a dark metallic rectangle. Above it, a barely legible sign is mostly covered in ice, but she can still make out ‘point Antarc’ before the rest of the lettering is covered up. Well, looks like the right place to her.

“Everybody stay alert now. Let’s not lower our defenses because this seems easier than usual,” Mercy cautions, earning nods from everyone - except Tracer, who’s already accessing the door panel. “Heya, Overwatch here! Ready for a scientist rescue pick-up, you copy?”

Mercy looks like she’s resisting the urge to facepalm. Huntress doesn’t blame her.

The door slides open, though, and beyond awaits a dim hallway of similar dark metal. It doesn’t look much warmer, but it’s an escape from the wind, and with only a quick glance cast to the others, she steps past them all to head in. Leap first and think later like Tracer, right? Time to rescue some scientists.

If they’re still alive, that is.


	25. in distress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys holy fuck i found my flow again, that only took months.

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

“I told ya, I searched the whole station,” Tracer repeats herself, “and Mei’s not here. Though… it looks like she was the only one who survived. The rest are still in their cryostasis chambers.”

That produces a moment of silence; Mercy looks particularly somber, and Huntress wonders how many of the scientists here were people she’d known. Finally, Winston clears his throat. “What we need to ask is why she left, and how long ago. If I remember correctly, there’s an international outpost several miles north, which seems to be the reasonable destination for her if supplies are thin. If we can determine how long ago she left and how much she was carrying, we should be able to calculate her position based on foot speed and weather conditions…”

Getting rather scientific in here, isn’t it? While Tracer zips away again at Winston’s request, Huntress suppresses a shiver and shuffles closer to Bastion’s clunky frame that exudes heat. The omnic makes an excellent portable heater apparently, and she’s mildly tempted to drape herself over the warm chassis. Though, wait a moment…

“If Doctor Zhou isn’t here, then why did the door open for us? Unless it’s automated.”

Silence again, but less downcast this time as thinking caps go on and gears turn. Bastion offers a tentative whir, to which Huntress shrugs.

“Well,” Mercy offers after some thought, “it would be reasonable for only the most vital systems to remain active if they needed to conserve power, especially if it was to the point that only one cryostasis chamber remained powered. Perhaps she left the systems running as she left for the outpost? It doesn’t seem so strange when you think about it.”

Tracer returns at that moment, stirring a chill wind in the process. “Got it! Security system’s mostly off but the door logs are still runnin’, and it looks like she left an hour or so ago. Also looks like she took a supply sled with her, so I bet you can figure out quick where she’s at, Winston.”

That leads off into a discussion that Huntress has nothing to add to, leaning against Bastion and giving a halfhearted pat to the omnic when a querying whir reaches her ears. If she'd known the mission would be this boring, she would've just stayed behind…

Zenyatta is quiet as well, seeming to maintain an unobtrusive distance from both the trio of animated debate and her - now that she's glanced his way, actually, she realizes he's meditating. Likely just as bored as she is. At least it's not completely quiet with the ongoing calculating, otherwise she would find the silence unnerving for once, instead of comforting. This is the resting place for a number of people now, after all. Still, the atmosphere of echoing halls and creaking metal isn’t unbearable - just unsettling.

But graves shouldn't be disturbed.

Huntress realizes silence has fallen abruptly though, and looking over she finds that Winston and the others have stopped talking and seem to be listening. To what? She grounds herself in reality and listens as well.

_Tap. Tap… tap._ Not quite a steady rhythm, but not quite sporadic. The hair on the back of her neck stands, an atavistic chill running down her back as instinct briefly locks her in place.

“... Probably just a leaky pipe, huh? It's an old station now!” Tracer speaks up with a nervous giggle. “Definitely not ghosts!”

As if to counter those words, there's a low groaning of metal in the distance - Huntress doesn't harbor much in the way of superstition, but nevertheless clutches her gun all the tighter and scoots closer to the door they came from. “We’re leaving the way we came, right?”

“Well… according to the security logs, Mei left by a different door, facing towards the outpost…”

Great. Haunted abandoned station. Just what she wants to walk through today. None of the others look particularly thrilled about it, with the exception of Zenyatta’s unreadable face. Even Bastion chirps quietly, a unhappy sort of sound that mirrors her thoughts. “The longer we stand around, the further Mei gets from us. Now, according to my calculations, she couldn’t be further than an hour’s walk from here, and if we move fast enough-”

“I’m not walking through this building for even a minute, let alone out in the snow for an hour.” Huntress interjects and crosses her arms at Winston, sending glances darting about the group. “Most of us don’t have the insulation for more than a few minutes, so it’s a moot point to suggest that. We take the transport, and we go pick the doctor up that way.”

Silence for a moment, and then a few nods, even if Winston seems to take a moment longer to realize the truth of it. “I… I suppose you’re right. Sometimes I forget those sorts of things, my bad.”

“It’s fine. Let’s go.”

She waves off his apology - cold means a lot less when you’re covered in fur and armor, after all. As a group they start back the way they came, but from the corner of her eye Huntress swears she sees a flicker of movement, hears a faint tapping, yet sees nothing when turning to look. Ugh. Ghosts aren’t real. The cold is very real when they step back outside though, and once again she’s shivering as they hurry back along the half-filled trail they made when arriving. Back into the transport, and soon Tracer has them taking off, consulting Winston for directions to put them on the right track. And then soon after that, it’s a brief flight, a briefer touchdown, and  _finally_  there’s a well-bundled scientist with a supply sled added to the passenger list.

“Mei! I can’t believe you were stuck here all these years!” Mercy sounds astonished but glad; Huntress watches the fur-lined hood pulled back to reveal brown hair, brown eyes behind glasses, and a rounded face displaying pure happiness.

“That’s cryostasis for you, Dr. Zeigler. Winston, Lena, it’s so good to see you guys again! I got your transmission, I still can’t believe Overwatch was shut down…”

There’s quite a bit of animated chatting that goes on that she ignores in favor of sliding closer to Bastion’s warm chassis - she’s kinda chilly even now, and she’s not much for lively conversation, anyway. For the moment she tunes them out, paying more attention to the gentle sensation of the transport’s movement. Well, it’s not  _that_  gentle, thanks to the antarctic winds buffeting it. Still, modern tech does its work well, and the stabilizers reduce the turbulence greatly.

“So ah, hiya! I hear you’re called Huntress?”

Oh. Apparently Mei is the curious type. She bobs her head in a reluctant nod, taking a brief glance that provokes a friendly smile from the other. After a moment of awkward silence, she clears her throat and looks away, patting Bastion's blocky shoulder. “This is Bastion. It’s friendly.”

The omnic whirrs and looks to Mei with a curious tilt of the head, while she graciously turns her attention away from Huntress. “Wow, a real Bastion automaton! I didn’t know there were any left. Snowball, look!”

Snowball?

The soft hum of gravitics coming to life, and Huntress watches with her own curiosity now as the dome on Mei’s pack detaches itself and becomes its own little unit, with an LED face that’s actually pretty cute. It floats up to Bastion’s head, circles around with a friendly chirping, and then a conversation between the two begins, almost too fast for Huntress to listen in on. Mei appears to be listening as well, smiling widely and giggling whenever Snowball becomes more animated in display.

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” Mei asks. After stifling a sigh Huntress nods, leans back in her seat, and prepares for a long ride back.

* * *

Hanzo has always hated waiting, even if he’s gracious about it. Waiting for news, waiting for others, it’s all irritating. Genji used to be the same, but as with all the other changes Hanzo has learned about him, the newfound patience his brother has is a surprise. So much has changed, not just physically…

Ten years of mourning and self-flagellation haven’t gone away in just a few months.

But he is doing better. He peers through the lashes of one eye to his brother adjacent to him, legs folded and posture poised yet relaxed - Genji was never able to meditate as a boy, fidgety and ready to take off at a moment’s notice. At the moment, his scarred face is serene, still water beneath a clear sky. Their father used to call him a sparrow for his flighty antics, but Hanzo sees none of that now. A calm and capable warrior sits there instead, still lithe and swift but able to conserve and control himself now.

A true Shimada, their father would’ve said. Hanzo wonders what he would have to say about the older brother, tensing as his thoughts begin go down dark and painfully familiar paths.

“You are troubling yourself  _again_ , brother?”

Genji is watching him when he opens his eyes, and after a moment of lips pressed together he forces himself to relax, chasing away the impending brooding with a loud sigh.

“A swallow may yet fly the same journey every spring, even when he knows there is only barren land awaiting him,” Hanzo quips in a moment of melodrama. Then he snorts at himself, a wry smile flickering into existence briefly. “Old habits are hard to break, Genji.”

At that Genji breaks into laughter, a carefree sound that warms him with nostalgia, though he narrows his eyes slightly when Genji leans over and elbows him in the side.

“You should use those sorts of sayings around Huntress, Hanzo! Maybe she would finally smile at you.” Deep breath now, if he gets snappy then Genji will only tease him more… no helping the way his ears are burning, though. “So you presume. Even if she were to smile at anything she still remains masked, and I am not capable of seeing through it, brother.”

His brother wears his visor to spare others the sight of his scars, but Hanzo cannot entirely fathom why Huntress wears her mask; is it truly to disguise herself against Talon? If that were merely the case, surely she would not be so sensitive about allies seeing her face. Yet she remains secretive even to the ragged group that considers itself the new Overwatch, and he does not believe she hides scars or deformation behind it either. He could ponder the mystery all day and still not find a satisfying answer, so he shakes his head and rises to his feet. Genji rises in turn, head tilting with obvious curiosity. “Don’t tell me you are going to check on the transport’s location again? I told you they definitely won’t return before seven, Tracer is not that reckless of a pilot.”

“I am not,” Hanzo scoffs. He really wasn’t, even if he wants to - he hates waiting, but he also dislikes his impatience showing. “I merely wish to stretch my legs before I remind you who of us is the better in combat.”

That causes Genji to grin, challenge already accepted - ten years before, that remark would have gotten the younger to pounce on him, but now Hanzo has to work much harder for such a response. His brother really has grown… but that’s enough nostalgia for the day.

“Genji, Hanzo. Please come to the communications bay. My sensors detect the transport is going off course in an uncontrolled fashion.” At the sound of Athena’s voice Hanzo hesitates for an instant, but the two of them are off in a flash, almost racing each other to get to the bay. The other members are showing up as they step inside, even Brigitte, and before long they’ve crowded around the holo table where Athena displays the transport’s location, now miles off its intended course. Of course, Torbjörn speaks up first in a skeptical tone, “A few miles off course isn’t something to worry about by itself Athena, you shouldn’t get your circuits crossed and make a chicken out of a feather.”

“The course deviation is compounded by a loss of altitude, communications are unresponsive,” the AI continues as if he hadn’t even spoken, “and probability of a crash has risen dramatically, as has the likelihood of Talon interference.”

Hanzo can admire such grace.

“Then we must come to the aid of our friends!” Reinhardt declares, though Hanzo can already see the engineer beside him shaking his head. “There’s only one transport in working order right now, Reinhardt. I’ve been working on the other, but getting it in working order is going to take a few more days…”

“Nonsense! You’ve been fussing over it for a month now, a few hours flight should be nothing for it! Don’t keep your head caught in the toolbox, now.” That starts off a lively ‘debate’ between the two, and Hanzo suppresses a sigh. If their companions are in immediate danger, then there’s no use arguing over the fine-tuning of a transport that hasn’t seen use in years - they will have to use it, whether or not they actually wish to.

“Athena, what is the closest city to their current location?” Genji asks, and the holograph shifts obligingly to display that as well. “Numbani. Local time is one hour ahead, and it’s probable that local authorities may already be investigating the presence of unauthorized craft not responding to air traffic controllers.”

Hanzo can already deduce the conclusion to that scenario - everyone arrested and charged with violation of the Petras Act, their already tiny force weakened further, and Talon given free reign to sow terror.

“How long is the flight to this city?” he asks, drawing the others’ attention.

“Approximately three hours. According to current altitude and velocity, if they don’t regain control of the transport, it will crash just northwest of Numbani within that time frame. Radar does not detect other unauthorized craft in the area, but it’s possible that a small enough craft tailing them could escape notice.”

After a moment of hard thought over the information given to him, he glances to Genji and gives the younger a slight nod. For the first time since arriving, he allows the inflection of a leader’s confidence to creep into his voice while addressing the others. “Torbjörn, you should make any final critical repairs to the docked transport. Whether or not they crash, our support may be necessary to fight off Talon, to escape the local authorities, or possibly both. It would be wise to make our move first.”

It’s suddenly a tense silence; he’s acutely aware that he’s probably overstepped his meager position, but time is vital…

Finally someone speaks up: Brigitte. “I’ll help with the repairs after Reinhardt suits up.”

The Crusader is quiet, looking rather like a lion whose heavy gaze rests on Hanzo for far longer than he’s comfortable with. Still, he stands his ground and meets the one-eyed gaze with an unblinking stare of his own, until finally Reinhardt nods, looking to Brigitte. “That is well with me. Come, we must prepare, and quickly!”

With that they’re off, and the tension is broken, though his ears catch a low grumbling in an unfamiliar language as Torbjörn stomps away - being commanded by someone at least two decades his junior must be aggravating. As he lets out a low sigh, he finds Genji giving him a hug suddenly, a gesture he hasn’t received in such a long time that for the briefest of moments, he misses his childhood with a heart wrenching fierceness. Tears prick at his eyes for an instant; he blinks them away before Genji pulls back.

“I did not think you would have found such bravery so soon, Hanzo.”

Hanzo shakes his head slightly. “Necessity, rather than bravery. We should get ready as well.”

Even knowing Genji is eying him from behind that visor, he straightens himself and moves away with the best gambling face he can muster. Necessity, perhaps… or something else. Nothing he’s willing to put into words as of yet. That requires time, and time is short currently. They have a rescue to enact.


	26. street brawling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy oh boy did i have fun writing this. warnings for graphic violence, terribly short cameos, and a good old cliffhanger.

Somehow, the slow decline into a crash is so much worse than the crash itself, building suspense and dread to unbearable heights until finally the transport bucks and shudders, metal buckling and screeching. Their one blessing is that in being prepared, everyone’s had enough time to get strapped down securely - even Bastion has cargo ties to keep the omnic from getting tossed about like a magnificent, squared, and highly lethal pinball. Once the last of the ship’s movement settles into mere creaks and groans of stressed and shredded parts, Huntress untangles herself from the seat harness, trying to ignore the aching lump on her head from where it banged against the transport.

“Is everyone alright?” Mercy calls from behind a light curtain of smoke.

Tracer calls back before everyone else, “Fuel line’s broken, we gotta get outta here quick in case a spark catches us up in flames!”

This spurs Huntress to action, though she’s not sure about the others, just shapes in the quickly thickening smoke. Bastion’s cargo ties are still holding strong, but the buckles have been ruined beyond working condition, and she’s forced to cut the hefty bands with her knife; the omnic helps by wielding the self-repair arc welder like a tiny blowtorch. A resounding boom of thunder nearly sends her jumping out of her skin for fear of an explosion - Winston’s towering form is now outlined in a halo of sunlight from the opening he’s created by slamming his fists through the window of the transport door. Dramatic, much? The door must’ve been jammed.

That clears the air up though, a quick glance around showing the team to be in good enough shape as they make their exit. Tracer’s got a busted lip, Winston’s limping a little, but Mercy brings her staff to bear on both of them once everyone’s out on the grassy plains stretching out around their location. A city sits squarely to the east of them to break up the monotony, but the sight is less than comforting, considering their less-than-legal activities as of late. An Overwatch transport is sure to grant them a long stay in a prison cell.

But even that seems to be the least of their worries.

Out of the clear sky, a sleek transport in jet black and bearing a most unwelcome emblem ripples into view like a predator dispelling its camouflage. It sets down no more than fifty yards away, and though the figure that first emerges from the dust kicked up below the jets is unfamiliar, it’s not at all hard to pick up on the instant tension of her comrades, especially when this tall, imposing silhouette is joined by a fair number of Talon troopers, guns at the ready.

The ground behind them rocks with a muffled explosion, and in the time it takes Huntress to glance back and see the transport go up in flames, the Talon ship has left only dust and the threatening line of enemies - as if it never existed.

She can taste ashes in her mouth, the bile in the back of her throat bitter with disbelief. That ship used stealth tech, undoubtedly the same tech she currently wears.

“It was not easy to arrange this meeting, but I think you all will appreciate the effort it took to get you here.” A commanding, regal accent from the distinctive man facing them, and before she can ask anyone who he is Winston has the answer in a growled, “We should’ve known this was your fault, Doomfist!”

Oh. The epithet sends ice down her spine and locks her in place. Reaper is one level of evil she’s used to fighting, but the most infamous criminal in Africa, if not the world? If she hadn’t felt out of her league before she sure as hell does now, watching numbly as the man smiles in acknowledgement and hefts the massive gauntlet on one arm as if it weighs nothing - she’s entirely sure its grasp is big enough to crush her frame without breaking a sweat. The only small comfort she has is the brief flicker of nervousness that flits across Tracer’s face. Wait, didn’t Overwatch take him down once? Why is _she_ nervous? On second thought, seeing that is the opposite of comforting.

“Winston, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you again. After all, I’ve had a _long_ time to practice. Do you really think you’ll be able to save your friends this time? Anger will only carry you so far before you run out of steam.”

“Oh, shut it! You aren’t the only one who’s had time to practice!” Tracer bursts out, and with lightning speed the pilot has her guns in hand, dashing at the enemy line with a pale blue zigzag that sets off a hail of bullets in response - Winston’s deftly deployed shield protects the rest of them from it, while Tracer guns down the first of the Talon troopers in her way.

Huntress is frozen like it’s her first moment on the field of battle all over again. There’s too many thoughts, a flood of fear - and then a softly glowing orb floats through her vision, the feeling of an omnic hand resting on her shoulder enough of a distraction to peel her gaze away from the fresh conflict.

(Doomfist hasn’t even moved yet - confidence, or arrogance?)

“Be strong, Huntress. The tallest mountain may still be reduced to sand by the ocean’s many waves.” Is Zenyatta ever shaken? The serenity emanating from his voice is hard to believe, and yet a hint of strength seeps back into her, fingers briefly tightening their grasp on her rifle as she gives the tiniest of nods. He’s right, isn’t he? She hates to admit it, since that opens the door to him being right about other things, but now is hardly the time to think about it when the rest of the team is already starting to move forward to join the fray - with no cover to hide behind, what else can they do except charge?

“Thanks,” she mumbles, almost inaudible, and cloaks.

The world is dulled to gray as usual while she darts around to find a good flanking spot. The flaming wreck of their transport offers the only high point for what feels like miles, the nearby city notwithstanding, and she doesn’t dare climb it. Her heart’s racing a mile a minute, flashes of action catching her eye in the mess before her: Winston leaping through the air at Doomfist with a bestial roar; the sharp but sparse chatter of Bastion’s turret, trying to find targets without hitting allies; Mercy and Mei moving like a single unit with the scientist wielding a rather unconventional gun that appears to be spitting ice.

She takes aim and fires, muscle memory earning her a solid body shot on the nearest Talon grunt before her cloaking dissipates. Now she’s a visible target and garners attention - she dives in closer and goes to work with her knife, wishing her grenade weren’t useless in such a mixed and messy field.

Fighting mostly on blind instinct, the next target her knife attempts to slash through offers a steely resistance and sends up sparks with the harsh sound of metal skidding across metal, which jars her out of her battle trance. This is no grunt: Doomfist looms over her, gauntlet denying her the unarmored target of the rest of his body.

“You are the thief, aren’t you?”

Her knees tremble, but she leans in with her blade, hoping to wedge it into a vulnerable joint somewhere. “It is fortunate Mockingbird had backup prototypes to replace what you stole. Talon is not so easily denied what it wants.”

Don’t look up, she thinks to herself harshly. If she does, what little bravery remains in her will most certainly flee.

Teeth gritting, she pushes away and the space between is briefly capitalized on by Tracer, spitting shots at Doomfist that are just as easily deflected by that gauntlet. Then Winston is upon him again, and Huntress leaps out of the range of powerful blows being exchanged. A shot grazes her shoulder - on reflex she returns fire and makes her target crumple to the ground, but adrenaline can only do so much to numb the burning pain of the bloody furrow. The number of troopers has dwindled, but they’re still outnumbered, and Doomfist doesn’t seem tired in the least. Will he try to kill them all right here and now?

The approaching sound of sirens heralds a new arrival, and she manages to catch a moment to look - police transports approaching from the city, already almost upon them. By unspoken agreement the engagement scatters nigh instantly, though the fighting is no less fierce for it. Huntress is hounded by a trio of grunts until she cloaks and dashes through the outer edges of the city. No time to appreciate the architecture while she’s taking shots and trying to keep an eye not only on Doomfist and her teammates, but on the police that are swerving into U-turns to pursue the moving battle. Hard to do that when she’s ducking through alleyways and firing on anyone she can see wearing Talon’s combat gear. How quickly they’ve moved into the main thoroughfares of this place, bringing a whole new hazard to the engagement: civilians.

“Stop right there!”

Gravity takes a brief and abrupt swerve to the left; her gun nearly flies from her grasp when she drops to the pavement, gasping in pain when it jars her shoulder. Rolling onto her back, she finds the barrels of a very serious looking weapon trained on her by quite a large omnic, yellow optics shuttered into narrow bars. “You are in violation of the civil code of Numbani, sections 12 and 15 stating that-”

Bullets ricochet off the broad upper chassis of the omnic, drawing its attention for the split instant Huntress needs to cloak and drag herself to her feet as she takes off. When she glances back, it appears the omnic is now engaging the Talon grunt who fired upon them - guessing at the caliber of that gun, she really doesn’t want to stick around and see who wins. Where have the others disappeared to, though? The sounds of shots fired and pavement shattering are an easy guide to follow, and down the next alley she comes out onto a mostly empty avenue dominated by the two on one battle between Doomfist, Winston, and Tracer. Hopefully the rest of the team hasn’t been split unfairly…

Taking a breath to steady herself, she lifts her rifle, aims and fires. The shot barely misses, but Doomfist doesn’t even flinch as the odds continue to stack against him; in fact, Huntress quickly finds a blur being flung at her, too fast to avoid. Tracer crashes into her with a yelp, and they both go tumbling away to land in a heap up against a nearby car.

“C’mon love, I gotcha!”

Even though looking much worse for wear, still Tracer manages to pull them both to their feet. Huntress feels the fear welling up again, striving to quash it before it can creep into her voice. “How did Overwatch defeat him last time?”

“Winston knocked his lights out, so we just gotta keep wearing him down!”

A quick pat on the shoulder and the pilot dives back in, yet Huntress struggles to capture the same kind of confidence. Or maybe it’s desperation? Still, she can either stand around like a hapless child, or she can do her best like the others and actually be worth something for once.

“Grenade incoming, Winston!”

Rather than a soaring arc of a toss, Huntress rolls it along the ground with as much force as she can muster, right for Doomfist’s feet. It’s too much to hope that he doesn’t see it in time - the detonation catches no one, other than short-circuiting a few cars that drop to the ground with a thud. The enemy has leapt to avoid her grenade, and now lands with a thunderous slam close enough to throw her off-balance as she tries to shoot at him. She’s no McCree, dammit, short range isn’t her style. Before she can cloak again that massive fist swings far faster than it ought to, slamming with tremendous force into her stomach and against the nearest car.

Her vision blinks in and out, swimming with stars. Is she even breathing right now, does she even have lungs to do it with anymore, or is there just bloody pulp in her chest? Too stunned to move, and darkness closes in with a powerful grip around her head. Only gravity is able to tell her she’s dangling off the ground now. What a way to die… hardly heroic, in the end.

Dimly, the sound of a roar, like a train in the distance, and when her vision next clears, she finds herself crumpled on the ground. She’s breathing after all, but each breath is agony, tears streaming freely and leaking into her mask, the salt mixing with a copper tang that has to be her own blood. Too disoriented to think straight, sounds are passing over her head as if a television were playing in the background. Roaring, fierce sounding laughter, gunfire, transport engines and sirens and voices shouting, jostling, pain, tunnel vision…

The darkness is inviting for once, rather than frightening. She closes her eyes and lets it chase away everything else.


	27. cue the rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> those days when you say to yourself, 'well at least it can't get any worse' and then it does? huntress is having one. at least it's not raining. also a reminder if anyone's a dedicated reader, please pleeeaaase gimme some feedback. validation is an author-inspiring tactic that never fails, so do tell me what you like. warnings for surprise! more violence, brief and singular mention of throwing up, and basically another cliffhanger. also, hand holding. very scandalous, i know. lastly, if anyone's curious as to exactly how hurt huntress is right now, i'll probably address that in the next chapter or two, depending on word count.

Waking up feels like being dislocated from reality, seeing nothing but hearing the soft murmur of voices talking in what must be English, but as she is it’s almost incomprehensible, save for a few snatches. Distress… crash, Numbani. Huntress.

Right. That’s her. She remembers she has to open her eyes in order to see, and does so to see a familiar sort of ceiling - an Overwatch transport. Didn’t it explode, though? Coughing weakly, she finds a painful ache in her sides and chest, then very abruptly a sea of faces crowding over her with a number of voices that blur into gibberish as she squints, covering her eyes with a hand to block out the view. “Stop crowding her, she’s still seriously injured! One at a time, for goodness sake.”

She recognizes Mercy’s voice cutting through the chatter, and dutifully most of them withdraw, leaving surprisingly foremost Tracer, whose hands latch onto hers and give them a squeeze in lieu of a hug.

“You’re alright! I was so worried, I’m so sorry! You shouldn’t have had to go through that…”

It’s the first time she’s ever seen serious guilt on the pilot’s face, and though she still feels like she’s been put through a blender, she manages to give a weak squeeze back, trying to find her voice for a long moment. “I... had to help. Accepted the risk.”

Before Tracer can respond, Winston’s nudging his way into view; while he doesn’t take her hands, he clears his throat awkwardly and attempts to pat her shoulder as gently as possible. That hurts. She suppresses a wince and tries to focus on his words instead. “It was very heroic of you to do what you did, we’re all very proud of you. I gave him back twice what he gave you, of course!”

“Did we stop him?”

Silence for a moment, and then he shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. We had to retreat to save you seeing as...”

“You’ve had most of your ribs broken, and have several critical injuries that cannot be fixed with nanotechnology alone,” Mercy cuts in smoothly, though remaining out of sight - Huntress is too afraid to move her head for fear of further pain. “My staff will stabilize your condition until we return to base, but I will have to operate as soon as we arrive.”

“That’s okay, but how… where did…” She’s confused and wants to sit up more than anything, but has the feeling Mercy would probably sedate her if she tried. The confusion only grows when another face comes into view - Genji? _What?_ Maybe this is some kind of dying dream and she’s actually bleeding out on the pavement still. The surprise must show on her face, prompting him to laugh quietly. “No one expects the cavalry these days, do they? When Athena was tracking the transport and saw it was going to crash, we got one of the old transports to work again and-”

“You mean _I_ got it working again!” That can only be Torbjörn who sounds so indignant, but his voice is distant enough that she can only assume he’s piloting the ship.

“It was you _and_ Brigitte, don’t forget credit where it’s due!”

Now Reinhardt begins to squabble with the engineer - is _everyone_ actually here right now? Well, she hasn’t heard Hanzo speak up, and if everyone were to show up in a dying dream of hers surely he would appear as well… and possibly McCree too, if only to obnoxiously smoke cigars in her vicinity.

Though, if it were a dream, she’d also be hurting less right now, huh? Well… at least she can move her arms without pain, so her collarbones must be intact. Better than nothing.

In her conflict she remains silent, fingers rubbing over the side of her face - and freezing. No mask, just bare skin. Panic sets in briefly, pulse spiking in a way that leaves her short of breath while she struggles to hide the response. All the same, she can hear the frown in Mercy’s voice as the doctor asks, “Huntress, are you alright? Is something hurting?”

“No, I… just. My mask?” she whispers.

“Doomfist crushed it when he grabbed you,” Tracer speaks up, holding several fragments of the familiar equipment in view. “I don’t think it’ll go back together so easy…”

A message, the first thought comes to mind. A message from Talon: _no more hiding_. But is it just for her, or for all of them? She’s tired and it hurts to think when her brain is now blaring on repeat Doomfist’s words for her:

_“Talon is not so easily denied what it wants.”_

He probably could’ve taken her cloak, but no one’s said anything about that - she discreetly feels at her shoulder and is relieved to feel it there. So what does Talon want now, if not that? Revenge for brazen theft? Destruction of Overwatch’s scarce forces? Something else? Her head hurts even more, and she closes her eyes. After a moment a quiet murmur of discussion begins anew and leaves her to ponder, aching too much to find rest and slowly starting to drown in a sea of contradicting emotions. She’s glad to be alive, but it’d be easier if she were dead; everyone’s here for her, but she’s been too weak to do any good; Doomfist could’ve crushed her head in a split second but didn't…

A warm hand gently takes her own, making her realize that her fingers are rather chilled. She peers through her lashes, and it’s Hanzo, finally appearing as if sitting beside her and leaning over gently to make his presence visible. And holding her hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze, an unspoken offer of reassurance as if somehow he knows what sort of worries trouble her.

God, she almost wants to cry on his shoulder.

She buries that impulse deeper than necessary and returns the squeeze just as gently, trying to take a deep breath only to end up coughing in pain for it; she holds onto him tightly until the fit dies away, then uses her free hand to wipe at the moisture on her lips. A quick peek proves that it’s blood, of course.

“Do not breathe too deeply, or you may puncture a lung,” he advises quietly, in the sort of tone that speaks of firsthand experience. After a shallow breath, she nods.

“How close are we to the base?”

“Not much longer. You have been unconscious for most of the journey, and we did not believe you would wake before arriving,” he admits, “but… it is heartening to see you awake.”

There, the beginnings of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and despite herself the sight makes her heart flutter and head spin a little with a brief bout of dizziness. She’d rather climb out of the transport and take a dive right into the Mediterranean than admit anything out loud, but… it pleases her dumb little heart to know he was worried. “Well… some of us don’t know when to give up the ghost.”

Hanzo huffs in amusement, eyes closing as if in contemplation while his thumb brushes over her knuckles. “So it seems. You and Genji have that in common.”

The logical choice is to pull her hand away, but she can’t find it in herself to do so; the silence lengthens without discomfort, with only the low background murmur of the others filling in for the dropped conversation. Except for the steady ache of broken bones she’s not horribly uncomfortable, though she doubts she’ll fall asleep without any drugs right now - probably better to be conscious right now, anyway. Torbjörn calls out a few minutes before landing, giving Huntress ample time to brace herself for the light jostling of touchdown that still produces a surprising amount of pain, her vision dancing with stars for a moment while she reflexively tightens her grasp on Hanzo’s hand and tries to keep her breathing shallow.

Okay, that sucked. Remind her never to get punched by Doomfist again.

“Reinhardt, if you could carry Huntress again, we need to get to the medical bay immediately-” As Mercy speaks and transport door hisses open off to her right, there’s in turn the sound of heavy steps like running from beyond, Brigitte’s voice shouting, “Get out, it's an ambush!”

The rumble of an explosion shudders through the transport. Too late - the heavy rumbling of rubble beginning to fall from above, groans of metal pushed to the breaking point. Faster than she can blink, she’s been swept out of the transport, though it's not Reinhardt who's done it. No, it's Genji with her arm slung over his shoulders, cradling her bridal style as carefully as possible. It still hurts like hell, but that hardly stops her from being grateful as she watches the rest of the team race out of the transport moments before the hangar ceiling begins to cave in over it. Reinhardt raises his shield to protect them from the debris, forcing everyone to take a few steps back when the cave-in continues to threaten them.

“Brigitte, what happened?! Who's responsible for this, I'll tear them apart!”

“Talon showed up, they hacked Athena! I tried to stop them, they stalled me in the workshop!”

“Athena! Tracer, let's go!”

“Winston, we need to stick together-!” Before Mercy can finish her sentence, the two have already split off. And then, a volley of grenades begins to bounce in from the left, Reinhardt barely turning his shield in time to catch them. Eyes following the trajectory of them, Huntress spies the figure to blame standing at the open bay door, laughing in a decidedly unhinged manner. Wait, hasn't she seen this guy before? It's such a strange appearance she'd be hard pressed to forget it. Some previous clash with Talon, maybe…

“Too late, ya drongos! your base is done like a dinner, and it looks like you are too!”

“Hah, the only thing that will be done today is your defeat!” Reinhardt calls back - the gangly fellow looks quite taken aback, yelping and scrambling away as he now has precision engineered German Crusader armor charging him at full speed. Mercy looks to be in despair. “Reinhardt, come back!”

She flits after him with the golden wings of her Valkyrie suit, and their numbers are pared down again.

“We need to regroup and get out of here if the base is compromised,” Genji declares, receiving nods from everyone. “Huntress will not last long if Mercy does not return soon, and neither will we if more of Talon bears down on us.”

“You mean like this?”

From above, black smoke pours itself like ink into their midst, forming into a familiar and dreaded figure already pulling out shotguns, blasting shots to either side. The group scatters - Genji with Huntress and Hanzo this way, Mei and Brigitte another, Torbjörn and the omnics a third way as Bastion trills an alarm. Huntress feels woozy from how fast Genji can move, squeezing her eyes shut with the faintest groan. This day just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?

Next comes the thunderous retort of a sniper rifle seemingly just to mock her train of thought, whizzing just above her head and barely missing Genji, who moves again with dizzying speed to get out of the sniper’s line of sight.

“Genji, get her out of here. I will deal with this sniper!” Hanzo barks. Before Huntress can so much as open her mouth the archer has shot off a preliminary sonic arrow, then gone off at a run.

Their numbers diminish once more.

“We can’t leave everyone behind,” she protests, ignoring the building pain in her torso as she tugs on Genji’s arm. If he’d just put her down she could do _something_ , anything to help; she hates being a broken ragdoll, slowly dying. But his hold has a cybernetic strength she’s just not able to remove right now. His face isn’t visible, but there’s clearly concern in his voice as he replies, “Neither can we stay here, Huntress. I cannot see any choice right now.”

“Put me down and we fight! Either we win and get our base back, or-!”

As Genji’s taking a step back despite her argument, an abrupt metallic _snap_ , followed by a crunching sound and a cry from the cyborg tells her something has gone wrong yet again. His grip falters and she tumbles to the ground - the landing invites a blinding agony and a cry of her own, crumpled helplessly on the ground for a long moment until it ebbs away enough for her to roll onto her side. Facing Genji, she can see the nasty looking bear trap that’s bitten into his leg almost up to the knee, sparks emanating from within as the prosthesis is tugged at. No go for simply pulling, so now his hands try to pry the trap open, and she can hear metal straining, though whether it’s from him or the the trap’s jaws she can’t be certain. Over the din of the fight happening behind them, she can actually hear a distant and cruelly joking, “You really _stepped_ in it, mate!”

_Wow_. Huntress doesn’t have the energy to spare for rolling her eyes, and instead puts it into dragging herself to her feet, one hand going to her side. The effort has her breathing hard, which brings on even more pain. If she can just…

“C’mere!”

She can barely parse the words of the unfamiliar voice before she’s introduced to a higher level of hurt by the sharp force apparently wrapped around her waist that drags her with terrible speed. It’s too much for her brain - she blacks out for an instant, then regains awareness to find herself dangling by one arm held in a meaty hand that rivals Reinhardt's for size, bruise black nails and rings on every finger. There’s a wheezy chuckle from the man, muffled by the snout-like gas mask he’s wearing. “Like taking candy from a baby.”

Huntress isn’t sure whether she’s going to faint or throw up from the pain she’s in, and it’s exhausting just to breathe right now. Thoughts of dying resurge with a vengeance - she closes her eyes with a shaky sigh, ready to accept fate.

Instead though, her stomach meets with a broad, rounded surface, and when she blinks a few times, she sees the ground several feet below, the backside of her attacker - ah.

She’s being kidnapped, apparently. _Perfect_.


End file.
